Songs About Rain
by NellyLove
Summary: When she told him she hoped it would rain on the day she died, he nearly fell to pieces. He hated the rain, but she loved it, and right now, he would do anything to make her happy-even enjoy the rain. Especially since it seemed there were always dark clouds hanging over them. CM Punk/OC Multi-Chaptered Songfic
1. She's My Kind of Rain

_**So, yes, I've started a new fic, though I don't expect this one to be all that long. Maybe 10, 15 chapters at most. If ten chapters, then they'll be longer and i'll probably combine lyrics in the chapters. **_

_**Anyways, this is a multi-chaptered song fic. Which means I will incorporate lyrics in each chapter from different songs. And the theme for this fic is that all of the songs used have to either be about rain, mention rain or have rain in the title (etc). **_

_**Thank you Kiwi for helping me with song ideas for this fic. You're always so great e-sis**_

_**Warning!- This fic will get a bit depressing as we get into it. It deals with some serious issues, if you don't want to read a fic that's emotional, dramatic and deald with the issues of sickness and death, then this is not the fic for you and I suggest you turn back now. If you're okay with reading something a little morbid and with some sturdy content then truck on through. If you've read my fic Meet Me Halfway, then you should probably like this fic too.**_

_**Oh also, it's T for language :) if you guys think i should up the rating, let me know. **_

_**The song for this chapter is by Tim McGraw. I do not own it or the lyrics. I only own my OC, Breann and the idea for the story. Any/all WWE personas belong to themselves or their respective owners. I am making no profit from this fic, it is for the enjoyment of my readers and to rid myself of evil plot bunnies who distract me from writing my other fics(I'll Keep Your Memory & Seasons Change But People Don't-check 'em out!).**_

_**Other than that, please read, review and enjoy.**_

_**Stay classy**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel **_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter I: She's My Kind of Rain**_

_She's my kind of rain_

_Like love in a drunken sky_

_she's confetti falling_

_down all night_

"Phil!" Breann called from the bathroom.

The Straightedge Superstar arched an eyebrow at his girlfriend's whine from where he laid in their bed, listening to the raging thunderstorm outside their window, wondering what could have possibly happened in the five minutes that she'd been out of his sight.

With a sigh he got up off the bed and walked to the bathroom, pushing open the door. The sight before him caused a smirk to twist his lips.

She must've been about to step into the shower before she called him for whatever reason, because she was standing in her underwear, holding her unclasped bra to her chest as she stared into the shower, her back to him.

"What's the problem?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

She turned to face him, "there's a spider in the shower."

His smirk widened, "and what do you want me to do about that?"

"I dunno, get rid of it, something! It can't stay in there."

"Just ignore it."

"I can't ignore it! It's huge!"

He stepped around her and pulled back the shower curtain, searching around the tiled floor of the shower for the offending arachnid. He couldn't see one.

"Where is it?"

"Where is it?" she repeated, sounding incredulous as she pushed one of his arms aside so she could step up to the edge of the shower. "It's right there!" She pointed to a tiny speck on the floor of the shower, in the corner, where the spider tried, unsuccessfully, to climb up the wall of the shower to escape the spray of hot water.

Phil gave her a look that said 'you've got to be kidding me' and she gave him a look right back that said 'just get it the fuck out of there.'

"It's not even the size of my fingernail," he complained, motioning to the tiny spider before showing her the nail of his pinky finger.

"I don't give a fuck how big it is, just get it out of there so I can shower!"

"No, you'll be fine, I don't think it's going to kill you to shower with it in there."

"Whatever, leave it in there, I'll just go shower in Matt's room," she said, mentioning her good friend Matt Cardona.

She turned, making to leave the bathroom, still only in her underwear.

Phil let out a growl, catching her around the waist, "oh no you don't." He had no doubt that she would walk out of their hotel room in nothing but her bra and panties. She wasn't shy, and she didn't give a shit about what people said or thought about her. But that didn't mean he wanted her to walk down the halls practically naked. He didn't like to think of himself as the possessive type, but somethings would make him cross the line. Plus he didn't need his co-workers oogling his girlfriend more than they already did.

"So are you going to kill it?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, tilting her head to the side slightly, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. Obviously satisfied that she was going to get her way.

"Yes," he let the word out with a sigh as his shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes.

She brightened instantly, her smile huge and showing off her white teeth. Her smile made him smile, like always. Whenever she was happy, he was happy too. It's just how they worked, her emotions were contagious to him.

"Thank you!" She leaned forward and pecked his cheek before taking several steps back away from the shower. She ended up pulling herself up onto the counter to wait for him to dispose of the spider.

Phil looked around for something to kill the spider with, deciding on using one of the glasses from the bathroom sink. He picked up the glass and turned back to the shower, moving the curtain over and out of the way, feeling a light spray from the shower hit his face. He aimed at the spider, his tongue toying with his lip ring.

"Don't squish it in there!" Her sudden yell stopped him before he brought the glass down onto the miniscule spider.

"Why not?" He asked gruffly, looking over his shoulder at her, unamused. He just wanted to get this over with.

"Because then I'll feel like I'm walking on its splattered guts while I'm taking a shower." She reasoned, "you can't kill it in there."

"Then what do you want me to do with it?"

"I don't know, take it outside or something. But you can't squish it in there, that's gross." She pulled a disgusted face.

"You're such a girl sometimes." He groaned

"Really, because you've never complained about my lack of a penis before. Is there something you need to tell me?" She said, completely straight-faced, with slightly raised eyebrows.

He laughed out loud at that one.

_She's the sun set shadows_

_she's like Rembrandt's light_

_She's the history that's made at night_

_She's my lost companion_

When he'd first met her, he thought she was going to be a shy, quiet, serious and untrained Diva. Someone he wouldn't be friends with, someone he'd just put up with as a co-worker. But he'd been completely wrong is his judgment of her.

She was one of the loudest people on the roster, with a laugh that you could hear from miles away, a smile that lit up a room, and a sense of humor that was sometimes both hilarious and slightly offensive. She'd been thoroughly trained and had had her fair share of bumps and bruises from the business. And hell, if they'd let her, she go after some of the guys and kick their asses too.

In other words, she was perfect for him.

Their friends had seen it coming from miles away, of course, but none ever said anything. They just all tried to set the two up, not too subtly.

Phil and Breann couldn't help it. From the first time they actually spoke to each other, they'd been drawn to one another. Simple friendship hadn't lasted long between them, due to the undeniable sexual tension, and the lack of self control that they brought out of one another.

No one dared to try and stop them. Who can really stop love when it's blazing down the tracks like a speeding bullet with no brakes?

_She's my dreaming tree_

_Together in this brief eternity_

_Summer days, winter snows_

_She's all things to behold_

"I think tonight will be one of those nights were I lay here and stare at the ceiling." Phil sighed as he and Breann laid in bed together a couple hours after her spider fiasco. He felt weary and tired, but not at all like he could slip into unconsciousness any time soon. It was troublesome.

Breann flipped over onto her stomach, her elbows digging into the mattress and her hands cupping her face as she looked at him.

"Alright, then what should we do?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"Well if you're not going to get any sleep, then I'm not going to," she explained without him having to even ask the question.

"You really should get some sleep. Don't worry about me," he said.

She shook her head adamantly. "Nope. We both sleep, or neither of us sleep."

"Bree," he said, using her nickname, as he locked gazes with her.

"Don't 'Bree' me," she said, "we can find something to do so you don't have to just lay there awake by yourself."

"Like what?" He asked, looking unconvinced.

"Well, we could watch a movie, or play go fish or share childhood memories...or we could have sex." She ticked off the suggestions on her fingers. "But after going through that table earlier tonight, I bet you're too sore for that last one," she said, pursing her lips.

He growled low in his throat, going to sit up and roll them over, but before he could even move, her fingers jabbed his midsection and he hissed in pain, clutching his side.

"My point exactly."

"Fuck. You just shanked me in the side."

"Yeah and it hurt."

"Of course it hurt."

"So sex would hurt even more."

He groaned, knowing arguing with her would be pointless.

She smirked as he laid down, letting go of his side and instead holding his arms out to her.

Her lips then softened into a smile as she settled herself down next to him, lowering herself into his arms, being careful not to put her weight on his side. She threw one of her arms over his chest, resting her temple against his shoulder, her other arm curled between herself and his side.

He kissed her forehead. "Bree," he murmured, smoothing her hair back, his hand trailing along her hair as it fell down her back. His hand stopped at the dip of her spine and settled there. "You know you don't have to stay up with me.

Her hand that was over his chest reached out and found his other hand, lacing their fingers together. "It's not the first time I've done it."

"You need to sleep though."

"And I will, when you're sleeping too. Now start talking about something, so that I can stay awake."

He sighed slightly and she could feel it in the rise and fall of his chest. His steady heart beat near her ear was lulling her into sleep. When Phil began to talk her eyes popped open quickly as she forced herself to stay awake and listen to him.

"Does it bother you that I had to kiss AJ tonight and that I'll have to kiss her again tomorrow?" he asked as his thumb brushed along her lower back where his hand rested.

She lifted her head slightly, resting her chin on his tattooed chest. "No, not really. It's just for a storyline. I mean, I've kissed guys before for storylines and you've never gotten jealous or been bothered by it," she said with a shrug.

He smirked, "I just choose not to tell you how much it bothers me."

She blinked in surprised, "it really bothers you?"

"Of course it does. You're my girlfriend. Even if it's fake, I don't want another guy making out with you. That's a privilege saved for me, your boyfriend, who loves you."

A smile slowly curled her lips upward, "aw, I wonder what the guys would think if they found out you're really a sappy romantic." She yawned.

"Well, I guess you'll never know, because they're never going to find that out." He said, watching as her eyes fell shut and she struggled to open them again.

"Are you getting sleepy?" she asked.

He knew if he told her the truth and said no, she would force herself to stay awake. She needed her rest, when she didn't get enough sleep she was hell to be around, and honestly, he loved watching her sleep. In sleep all of her walls and defenses came down and she looked sweet and vulnerable and less of a hardened woman.

"Yeah," he said, feigning a silent yawn.

Her eyes were closed, "mmmm, nice try. You're not going to sleep are you?"

"Maybe in a couple hours."

"But not right now."

"Probably not."

She sighed heavily, laying her cheek over his heart, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can stay awake any longer."

He grinned slightly as he looked down at her, he ran his hand down her back soothingly, "don't worry about it."

"I'll make it up to you some other time."

"All right Bree. Good night."

"Sweet dreams," she muttered.

His dreams were always sweet, though, because all he ever dreamed of was her, and their life together, and their future together.

He didn't think anything could ever take that away from them.

_She's my kind of rain_

_oh, rain on me_

_She's my kind of rain._

* * *

**_So there's chapter 1. If you liked it, loved it, or would like to send me a comment please leave a review! _**

**_Also, if you have any recommendations or suggestions of songs I could use in the fic, please send them to me via a review or PM. I have a list of songs, but i could always use a few more. Who knows? Maybe your suggestion will be better than half of my songs!_**

**_Note: There is a poll on my profile, vote please if you have not already :) _**

**_Much love,_**

**_Angel _**


	2. I Got You

_**I almost burst into tears writing this because just as I was finishing the chapter my OpenOffice crashed and when it did the recovery thing only recovered about 2/3 of the chapter...so I had to rewrite the ending. I was really pissed. But I got through it and here's the second chapter of Songs About Rain for ya!**_

_**And HOLY CRAP! I am SO overwhelmed by how many reviews the first chapter got...I thought two or three at the most, y'know, my usuals...but NINE! Oh my lord! You guys made me smile so freaking much with your reviews! So I shall gladly continue onward with this fic, and hope you guys keep showing me the love and telling me what you like, don't like, etc! **_

_**Again, thank you to **KiwiStar**, **Ivy**, **dashinginconverse**,** RatedrKjErIcHo**, **DeathDaisy**, **Addy**(oh my gosh, thank you for the song suggestion! I'm actually going to be using those lyrics in the next chapter! Thank you sooo much!), **SBMFanatic**, **Kyahbell**, and **BubblyShell22 **for the lovely reviews which rocked my socks! **_

_**Songs Used In This Chapter: I Got You by Craig Morgan (Thank you Kiwi!) & Rain by Breaking Benjamin**_

_**Read, review & enjoy**_

_**Onward and upward.**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel **_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter II: I Got You**_

_The rain keeps the flowers from dying_

_The sun lights the world when it shines_

_The midnight sky has a blanket_

_of starts and the moon_

_And baby, I got you_

Bree groaned as she got out of bed. Her arms were aching for some strange reason. She must have slept on them wrong or something.

"You sound worse than me," Phil said with a slight smirk as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her good morning.

"How is it that you always fall asleep after me yet still wake up before me?" she asked.

"You just need more sleep than I do to function." He answered.

"You've just learned to survive with your insomnia," she said, poking his shoulder before resting her head against his chest.

"I think I may have worked myself a little too hard in my match last night. My back and arms are super sore," she muttered into his bare chest.

"Hmm," he smoothed his hands along her shoulders, "maybe I'll give you a massage later."

"It's not my birthday, or our anniversary," she said, hiding her smile against his skin. "And I'm not angry at you..."

"Are you trying to say that I only ever give you massages on special occasions or to kiss ass so you'll forgive me? Because that is an outright lie." He said, pinching her shoulder.

"Ow," she said, pulling back and slapping his arm lightly. "That was mean."

"So was your insinuation that I'm a bad boyfriend."

"You're not. You're actually a really good boyfriend," she said, lifting her arms to wrap them around his neck.

"Hmmm, that's not a lie."

She rolled her eyes before pecking his lips, "I'm going to go get ready. You have a Make-A-Wish thing, I have an autograph signing with Kofi and Ron. We're going to meet up for food before we head to the arena, right?"

"Yeah, I'm going to stop at the gym after Make-A-Wish, then I'll pick you up from wherever you are."

"I'll probably be with the girls. I know they wanted to go shopping since Eve's birthday is coming up next month."

"Okay, I'll call you when I get done to see where you girls are at," he said as he pulled on his shirt, before pulling a hat on over his hair.

"Sounds like a plan Stan." Bree replied.

"You must have me confused with your other boyfriend. My name is not Stan, it's-"

"Oh shut up," she said, pulling the bill of his hat down over his face before closing the bathroom door, flicking the lock.

"What, no goodbye kiss?"

"I'm saving that for Stan," she called through the door.

It got silent for a minute and she arched an eyebrow, wondering if he had left.

"Hey, are you still there?" she asked, but received no response. Her eyebrows furrowed as she undid the lock and opened the door.

Phil's arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against them as he claimed her lips. She smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as he dipped her back slightly.

He broke the kiss, smirking down at her, "bye."

He disentangled his arms from around her body and headed toward the door, leaving her grinning in the doorway to the bathroom.

"See you later," she murmured before turning back around and stepping back into the bathroom.

/

"Hey sexy bitches," Bree greeted her three friends as she got into the rental with them. Nattie, Barbie and Beth all grinned back at her.

"Hey Bree, how was the autograph signing?" Barbie asked as her dark-haired friend slid into the backseat with her.

"It was good, you know Ron, Kofi and I always get along well." Bree replied.

"The three of you together are trouble," Nattie muttered, when Bree, Kofi and Ron were left to their own devices together, they turned into the most effective of pranksters. And Nattie had been on the receiving end various times.

"Aw, it's not my fault you're just too gullible Nattie," Bree said with a smirk as Barbie giggled.

Beth shrugged, "she does have a point Nat, you'll fall for anything."

"Shut up," the Canadian growled as her three friends laughed.

Once they calmed Bree checked her phone, seeing that Phil had texted her to let her know that he was done with his Make-A-Wish appearance and he was now heading to the gym. She texted him back to let him know with the girls. Once the text was sent she looked up to see Barbie grinning at her smugly.

"You texting the boyfriend?"

"No shit, I have no one else to text since all my friends are here in this car."

Barbie rolled her eyes, "you're so rude sometimes."

Bree softened quickly, "you know I was just joking."

Barbie started laughing, "and you say Nattie is gullible! Hah!"

Bree rolled her eyes, "see if I care about your feelings ever again."

"So, do you guys have any ideas of what we should get Eve for her birthday," Beth asked, turning to look at her two friends in the back seat.

Bree pulled a face, "no I was hoping you guys would have some ideas because I have no clue whatsoever. She hasn't even hinted at anything."

"I know right, it's so frustrating!" Barbie said, throwing her hands out, "usually she's kind of obvious about what she wants."

"Or she makes us a list," Bree said.

"Or she assigns us which gifts we're getting her," Nattie added.

"But this year...nothing." Beth sighed.

Bree shrugged, "so she can't complain about what we get her because we had no guidance. Plus, it's the thought that counts. We could be total douchebags and not get her anything."

"Valid point," Nattie said with a grin.

"Let's just go look around the mall and see if anything pops out at us," Barbie suggested and the girls agreed, Beth getting direction to the nearest mall on her cell phone.

The girls spent nearly three hours walking around the mall, searching everywhere for the perfect birthday present for Eve. They refueled briefly, indulging in a forbidden fast food meal, it was their cheat day.

Barbie groaned as she leaned back in her seat, patting her stomach, "I'm going to have to jog a couple extra miles tomorrow just to work off this burger."

"Met too," Bree agreed as she dipped another french fry in ketchup.

"You can't stop, can you?" Beth asked the brunette.

"No," Bree admitted.

"Take the fries away!" Barbie said and Nattie reached for the carton of fries, pulling them out of Bree's reach.

Bree pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, "c'mon, you guys know Phil never lets me eat fast food."

"No, he just doesn't eat fast food and because you don't want to eat it in front of him, you don't eat it either." Beth said.

"Well, he'll tease me about it," Bree said, sticking out her lip.

"Oh poor you," Barbie muttered, "at least you have a boyfriend."

"Oh yeah, you're the only one of us that is single." Beth said with a long nod.

"Well, Eve is single too," Nattie put in.

"But she's not here with us currently," Beth pointed out and Nattie nodded.

"I thought you were talking to that hockey player?" Bree hummed as she took a sip of her soda.

"Well...we are sorta dating," Barbie muttered. "But it's not official or anything."

Bree shrugged, "then you have nothing to complain about."

"It's just, I want a relationship like yours and Phil's, or Nattie and TJ's. You guys aren't just boyfriend and girlfriend, you're best friends. You're perfect for each other."

"Aww Barbs, I'm touched that we're your romantic role models," a voice suddenly said.

Bree smiled as she tilted her head back to see Phil standing behind her chair.

Barbie blushed slightly, "that was totally girl talk."

Bree smirked, looking up at her better half, "guess that means you're one of the girls now."

He rolled his eyes, leaning down and kissing her before muttering, "you're hilarious."

"Shut up, your sarcasm isn't appreciated."

He smirked before looking at the three blonds also at the table, "hello ladies."

"Hi Phil," they all said in unison, in a sing-song tone.

"That was a tad creepy."

"They practiced that just in case you did show up here. Speaking of which, how did you find me?"

"I just followed the smell of grease and-"

She cut him off, "never mind," she growled, "forget I asked. See, I told you he does this when I eat fast food."

"You're going to the gym with me tomorrow," he said.

Bree groaned, "no..."

"Well maybe you should've thought about this before you ordered the burger."

"You know what chunky monkey," she said in a mock-threatening tone.

He feigned hurt, "I find that name very insulting. I am not 'chunky,'" he used air quotes.

"I beg to differ," she said with a shrug.

"Bitch."

"Douche."

"You seriously claim them as your romantic role models?" Beth asked, arching an eyebrow at Barbie.

"Maybe I take that back," the smaller blond murmured as Nattie nodded in agreement.

When the three blonds turned back to the couple, Phil was tugging on Bree's arm.

"I don't wanna go," she whined.

He rolled his eyes, "you're such a child."

"Then carry me to the car," she replied quickly.

"No, you need to burn off that burger, you can walk."

"Fuck you," she said as she stood and picked up her purse. "Bye ladies," she gave them a wave before heading off.

"Bye," Phil said as well before turning to follow her. "You love me, remember?"

"I can't seem to recall why. All you ever do is insult me and promise me massages that never happen!"

He caught up to her, hooking his arms around her waist. She let out a gasp before she started laughing as he kissed the back of her neck.

"Say it," he whispered in her ear as he kissed just below it.

"No," she protested, trying to remove his arms from around her but he only tightened his grip.

"Say it," he growled, pressing her back against his chest, his breath hot on her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Fine. I love you, now let me go."

"You can do better than that," he said.

She rolled her eyes, turning in his arms, and looking up at him. She pecked his lips softly, "I love you."

He smiled, "I love you too."

"If we stay here like this you may ruin your badass image." She said.

"For you, I would."

Nattie looked away from the couple and to her two friends, "we never got Eve a present."

"Yeah, we still got a couple weeks," Beth said with a shrug.

"Yep." Barbie said as the three blonds got up to leave.

/

"So, since you ate some disgusting fast food with the girls, you're just going to have to sit and watch me eat my meal." Phil said as they got in the car.

"It wouldn't be the first time you starved me."

"How can you be hungry?" He asked.

"My stomach is a bottomless pit."

"That's because everything goes straight to your—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she shot him a glare.

They were both joking, teasing each other was second nature. They were both outspoken, and certainly offensive to some people who took what they said to heart. But they worked together, they challenged each other, poked fun at each other, they weren't afraid to step on each other's toes, and they kept each other in check.

They smirked at each other as he parked the car. He got out of the car as she threw open her door. She smiled as she saw him hold out his hand for her, which she took, lacing their fingers together as they walked toward whatever restaurant he had picked.

She sat and made conversation with him as he ate 'real food.' She just rolled her eyes at him and shot back, "I don't regret a single calorie."

After he finished eating they got back in the car and headed to the arena for that night's live Smackdown.

"So, your title shot tonight?" he trailed off.

"I'm losing." She replied.

He glanced over at her, she didn't seem too upset, "bummer."

She shrugged, "they just told me they were putting it off again until they found something bigger for me, storyline wise."

"You'll get it eventually," he assured her, and he didn't doubt that. She had a lot more in ring experience and talent than half the Divas currently on the roster. He didn't want to sound mean, because most of the Divas were his friends, but most of them couldn't wrestle for shit.

"I know. I mean, even the Bella Twins became champions, so.." she shrugged.

"You have to become Divas Champ, or you'll look bad."

"Exactly," she smiled at him.

/

Bree's match went well despite the fact that she lost. She was a heel, so the fans were happy to see her lose to the current Divas Champion Layla.

As the two brunette's made it backstage Layla looked over at her and smiled, "that was a great match, thanks."

"Anytime," Bree smiled.

"Hey, you looked kick ass out there," Phil said as he hugged her.

She smiled up at him, kissing him quickly, intending it to be short so she could go shower up before his segment.

He had other ideas and instead he held her to him, lengthening the kiss, letting his lips linger against hers.

When he finally pulled back she opened her eyes and looked up at him with an arched brow, "you okay?"

He smiled and nodded, but didn't respond verbally.

"Don't worry about your segment." She said, rubbing his shoulder.

"Were you really telling the truth when you said it doesn't bother you?" he asked.

"Would I ever lie to you?" She asked.

"Well, there was that one time where I asked you if my jeans made me look fat and you said they didn't but when I looked at my reflection, they made my hips look really big." He said, in mock-seriousness.

She punched his shoulder, "I was being serious. It doesn't bother me," _that much_ she added silent. But she was on good terms with AJ, and she knew the petite brunette wasn't the type to try and steal another girl's man. Especially when that man belonged to one Breann Thompson.

He stared at her a moment, studying her expression, looking for any signs that she was uncomfortable with his storyline. Finally he nodded with a slightly relieved sigh, "okay, I gotta go."

"All right, have fun making out with AJ, I'll see you after I shower up."

"Yeah, you do smell."

"You do too, I'm just too nice to ever bring it up." She stepped out of his arms, turning to head down the hall. She turned back with a smirk, "don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

He smirked back at her, "so pretty much anything is fair game!"

"Yep."

/

"Hey Eve, I'm not trying to give you a strip show or anything, but can I get your opinion on something?"

The brunette's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at her friend to see Breann fidgeting nervously, standing in just her bra and a pair of jeans.

"Yeah, of course what is it?"

"I uh, I have this weird lump on my left breast...and, well, look at it," Breann said nervously as she moved the strap of her bra off her arm and pulled the cup of the bra down slightly. There, closer to her armpit, on the start of the swell of her breast was a small lump. The rise of flesh was distinctly noticeable though, and it made a sick feeling settle in the bottom of Eve's stomach.

She looked up at her friend, who was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I should get it check out, huh?"

"How long has it been there?"

"I dunno, a couple days, a week maybe," Bree shrugged as she fixed her bra back into place. "D-do you think it'll be bad?"

Eve put on a brave face for her friend, "I'm sure it's probably nothing. But you should get your doctor to check it just in case. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah," a stiff smile turned up Bree's lips.

"Have you told Phil about it?" Eve asked as she turned back to her bag as she pulled out the dress she was going to wear for that night's episode of Smackdown.

"No, I don't want to worry him if it's nothing."

Eve wanted to argue and ask 'what if it's not nothing?' Or bring up the fact that Phil would be pissed if it was something and she hadn't told him about it earlier. But she didn't want to worry Bree either, she didn't want her friend to think about it negatively and get nervous or depressed.

"Well, just make sure to tell him some time soon." Eve said.

"I'll tell him once I go see my doctor."

"Okay." Eve knew her voice didn't sound to convincing and once Bree had left the Divas locker room, she let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her hand along her temple.

God, she hoped it really was nothing.

Phil noticed something was up with Bree the moment his eyes found her waiting in the hall outside the men's locker room.

He adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he approached her and she looked up. Suddenly her worried expression disappeared as she covered it up with a smile he knew to be fake.

"What's up?" he asked with a nod toward her, "and don't say nothing because I know that's a lie."

She rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms as she pushed herself off the wall, picking up her own bag, "it's nothing, really. But um, for my few days off I'm probably going to head home to Missouri. I haven't visited my parents in a while."

He still didn't believe it was nothing, "did something happen at home?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, "no, everything's fine." She locked eyes with him, trying to prove that nothing was wrong.

After a moment he nodded, "okay, well I'll hang out with Scott on Thursday and Friday then." He said, he had the two days off that week and she had Wednesday through Sunday off. He had been expecting to spend the two days lazing about Chicago with his girl, but if she wanted to go visit her family that was totally fine with him.

"Sounds good," she smiled at him, "you'll drop me off at the airport tomorrow, right?"

"Of course Sweetheart."

/

He leaned across the passenger seat as he rolled down the window.

"Tell your mom I said hi," Phil said as Bree looked down at him.

She laughed shaking her head, "I have no idea why my mom likes you so much."

"It's obviously my charm and good looks."

Bree scoffed, "yeah sure, if that's what you call it."

He smirked, "kiss." He pursed his lips, pointing to them.

She giggled, which was a rare sound that was reserved for when Phil did something cute. She leaned in, kissing his waiting his lips.

"I'll see you in a couple days," she said.

"Mmm, too long."

"Too bad, I know you can't survive without me, but you're going to have to try to function for just a few days."

"I doubt I'll manage."

"You can always just call me."

"I guess I'll make do with that. I love you," he said with a smirk.

"Love you too, honey boo boo!"

He rolled his eyes, "I really wish Matt hadn't shown you that video."

She laughed as she grabbed her suitcase and blew a kiss to Phil, which he mimed catching and holding to his heart, before she stepped through the double doors into the airport.

_Rain, rain, go away_

_come again another day_

_all the world is waiting for the sun_

Bree's mother had been ecstatic to see her only daughter and more than a little disappointed that Phil wasn't with her. Bree and her mother had always been really close, but due to Sheila's worrisome nature, Bree rarely told her mother about her troubles.

That's why Bree made the doctor's appointment when her mother ran out to the store to pick up another steak for dinner that night. And that's why the next day Bree made up the excuse that she was going to the gym, when she was really attending her doctor's appointment. She didn't want to worry her mother unnecessarily. She didn't mention the lump on her breast to her mother, Bree's grandma had had breast cancer.

"Breann Thompson," a nurse called from the door way.

"That's me," Bree said as she stood, shrugging her purse strap onto her shoulder and following the nurse. They went through the usual routine of weighing her and whatnot and they she was placed in a room to wait for her doctor.

Dr. Meadows walked in, a smile on her face, showing off her laugh lines.

"It's been a while Breann," the doctor greeted.

"Hey Meadows." Breann had been to see her primary care doctor several times in her life. She'd had Dr. Meadows since she was a little kid, when the doctor had first opened her practice, and Breann had broken her third bone.

Dr. Meadows had also been a consulting doctor on many of Breann's wrestling related injuries as well as monitored her recovery from those same injuries.

In other words, the two women knew each other well.

"So, it's not your annual physical, my grandson has not informed me that you were injured on Smackdown, so there are only a few other reasons as to why you would be here," Dr. Meadows said as she sat down on her stool.

Bree smiled nervously and fidgeted in her hospital gown, "uhmmm," she cleared her throat, "I'm afraid this is going to be a serious visit. You see, I found this...lump..on my breast."

The doctor immediately turned professional, snapping from family friend mode to doctor mode in a brief second.

"How long has it been there?

"Uh...about three weeks." Bree answered. She had lied to Eve when her friend had asked, she hadn't wanted to worry her either.

Dr. Meadows nodded, "may I see it."

"Yeah," Bree shrugged the hospital gown down her shoulders as Dr. Meadows rolled herself over to her patient.

Bree stared at the painting that hung on the wall in front of her as Dr. Meadows examined the lump with latex gloves. Bree's foot twitched, a nervous habit of hers, as it hung down from the examination chair.

"I'd like to do a mammogram," the doctor was frowning, "I can't say anything right now about it. But I can get you over to the hospital this afternoon with an order for one, and we should have your results back in a few days. How long are you here for?"

"I fly out Sunday afternoon."

"Good, we should be able to get the results by Friday if we can get you in today, does that sound good?"

"Yes." Bree's voice cracked on the word as she pulled her hospital gown back up.

Dr. Meadows placed a hand on the girl's knee. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay, Bree."

Bree tried to smile at the older woman, but could only bring it to the surface for a moment.

/

Mammograms were not Bree's favorite medical procedure.

Actually she quite hated them.

But she had gotten it over with and now she just had to wait.

She got the call from Dr. Meadows around noon on Friday.

"I need you to come in to see me."

"Okay." And she'd left her parent's house without a word, going to Dr. Meadows practice.

She'd been taken back immediately and placed in her doctor's office instead of in an examination room.

It all made her worried, and her foot twitched as she waited.

Dr. Meadows entered with a large yellow envelope which she placed on her desk before sitting down. She pulled out her glasses and then retrieved several pictures from inside the envelope.

She placed the photo's up on the strange light box things or whatever they were, Bree was too busy staring at the photo as Dr. Meadows turned to her.

The woman took a deep breath before looking back at the first image, "this white spot, right here," she circled her index finger around a spot the size of a nickel on the picture. "That's the lump you showed me the other day." The woman paused, "I'm afraid there is a high chance that it is malignant."

"You mean...it's cancer."

"I'm...I can't be certain until we do a biopsy of it." Dr. Meadows said, clearing her throat, "I'd like to get that done as soon as possible, so do you think you could get a couple more days off this week?"

"Uh, um, I-I can call Vince and see."

The doctor nodded, "if it is cancerous, I know an amazing oncologist I can refer you to."

"Sharon," it wasn't often that Bree used her doctor's first name, "I need you to be honest with me. How bad do you think it is?"

"I-I can't say."

"You and I both know that's bullshit. You wouldn't look so worried if you thought something wasn't wrong."

Dr. Meadows bit her lip before letting out a sigh, "I-I think we've found it a little later than would be preferable."

Breann stood, "I'm going to go call my boss and then we can schedule the biopsy thing."

"Okay, I'll return in a few minutes, you can make your call in here." And with that Dr. Meadows stepped out of the room.

It was hard for her to stay professional with someone she had seen grow up before her eyes. She had wanted to be as certain as she could before she said anything to Bree, she had had her oncologist friend look at the pictures, and her colleague had felt the same way she did.

Bree's hand shook as she held her cell phone to her ear and spoke with Vince. Even though she didn't want to admit to him, or anyone, what was going on, he was her boss and he needed to know. He sounded stunned when she told him her doctor was looking into a chance that she may have breast cancer. He told her she wasn't needed for any of the tapings in the upcoming week so she could stay off the road for any procedures that needed to take place. He also made her promise to call him once she had a clear diagnosis.

She just hung up her phone and placed it on Dr. Meadow's desk when it began ringing again.

Phil's name flashed across the screen. Bree swallowed, trying to get a hold of herself before she answered the phone.

"Hey hun," she answered.

"Hey, how are ya?" he asked.

"Good, what are you up to?"

"Well, Colt was busy today, so I'm hanging out at the apartment alone." He replied.

"Aw, I'm sorry."

"I'll be fine, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, I was just about to head out to lunch with my mom."

"Oh, may I talk to my number one fan?"

"She's actually in the bathroom right now, you know her and her phobia of public restrooms."

"You mean the same phobia you have?"

"Shut up," she muttered.

"Oh well, tell her I say 'hi.'"

"I will."

"Well, I'll let you go then. I love you."

"We'll talk more tonight, I promise. Love you too."

She let out a relieved sigh when they hung up. She walked over to the door and opened it, seeing Dr. Meadows talking to a nurse.

The older woman glanced over when she heard her office door open and she smiled briefly at Bree. "Cindy here can help you schedule the date for the biopsy. It'll take about a week to get results back from the biopsy."

"My boss said I can take off as much time as needed."

Dr. Meadows nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

/

It had been worse than Dr. Meadows originally thought. Her colleague, Oncologist, Dr. Maria Salazar, had agreed with Dr. Meadows suspicions and after seeing the results of the biopsy, both were saddened to meet with Breann.

"Metastatic Invasive Lobular Carcinoma." Dr. Salazar said. It was their diagnosis of the lump.

"I can't even pronounce that," Bree said, looking between the two women.

"It's a type of breast cancer," Dr. Meadows said with a heavy sigh. "But we're afraid it's become more."

"What do you mean?" Bree asked.

"Well, we both think that the cancer has been...present much longer than the lump has. In other words, we think you've been asymptomatic-"

Dr. Meadows cut in, "meaning you haven't shown any symptoms"

"-up until this time. Which means the cancer could've been inside you for much longer, and during that time it could have...grown into other various and more...harmful forms." Dr. Salazar finished.

Bree blinked at the two women. "Grown." She repeated.

"We won't know for sure until we run some more tests."

"More tests?"

"I'm afraid so," Dr. Meadows murmured, her heart breaking for the poor girl.

/

When Breann returned to her parents house, she told her mother about going to see Dr. Meadows, she told her about the diagnosis of both Dr. Meadows and Dr. Salazar. She had expected her mother to lose it, but she had held things together pretty well. Bree's father on the other hand, had a huge breakdown when they told him that night after dinner.

The three of them all sat at the dining room table together, in a deep silence.

Bree's cell phone sat atop the table in between her hands. She knew she needed to call Phil. She'd told him a couple days ago she was extending her stay at home because Vince didn't need her to appear on any of the shows and he had been understanding though the told her how much he missed her repeatedly.

Now, as she picked up her phone and dialed his number, which she knew by heart, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Breann didn't cry. When she'd popped her shoulder out of its socket after a hard fall, she'd screamed, but didn't shed a tear. When she'd broken her collarbone during a match, she hadn't cried, only made it through til the match was over. Phil had only seen her cry once, when her mother called two years back to tell her that her Grandma Lucy had died. She'd cried once, right after the phone call, and she'd teared up at the funeral, but that was it. Phil had never seen her cry any other times.

So when he answered his phone while lying in bed on Wednesday afternoon to hear her sobs through the speaker, his heart immediately sank into his stomach and his whole body tensed in worry.

"Bree. Bree, what's wrong?"

"Phil, I-I need you here, please." It was a small, cracked plea that made his heart clench.

He didn't even think as he began to throw things into his suitcase blindly.

"I'm on my way to the airport now. Can you tell me what's going on?" he asked as he zipped the case closed.

"I-I'd rather tell you in person," she whispered.

"Okay, okay. I'll be there as soon as possible," he paused and then corrected himself, "no, sooner than that."

He didn't want to hang up on her, but he had to in order to check out at the front desk. She let him go, still sniffling into the phone.

He'd hailed a cab, yelling at the driver to get him to the airport in less than fifteen minutes, he didn't care if the man had to speed.

It was then, as the cab was racing down the roads, that Phil realized the pattering of heavy rain against the windshield. A loud snap of thunder drew his eyes up to the sky where dark, heavy clouds obscured the late afternoon sun. He sighed heavily.

When the cab pulled up outside the airport Phil threw the amount due at the driver as he kicked the car door open and pulled his suitcase out of the trunk as he hurried into the airport.

He approached the ticket desk, noting there were a lot of people there, a lot more than there should be.

"I need the next flight out of her to Missouri."

"Sir, I'm afraid that no planes are cleared to fly due to the thunderstorm. You'll just have to wait."

Well fuck him.

He really hated to do this, and he knew that there was no way to get out of there while the rain was going on strong, but he needed to be sure he was the first person on the first flight out of there to Missouri.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and he slowly slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter. "I think you can do better than that."

The woman blinked at him. The bill disappeared. She glanced down, "the first flight out of here to Missouri while have you seated on it."

"Much better," he said as she proceeded to get his information and he paid for his ticket.

After going through security he sat down at a random gate and took out his phone.

Bree answered after a few rings.

"Are you on your way?"

"'fraid not. There's a fucking thunderstorm going on right now. They're not letting any planes fly out."

"Oh."

"But I'll be on the first plane out of this shithole. I promise."

"Okay."

"Bree, I love you, okay? No matter what's going on."

"I love you too Phil."

_All the world is waiting for the sun_

* * *

_**Note: I do have a list of songs to use...BUT, i'd love to hear any suggestions of songs from you guys. So if you can think of any songs that are about rain, mention rain, have rain in the title, use rain as a metaphor/simile, etc, write them down in your review or PM them to me! It would be much appreciated, and who knows, maybe i'll use the song you suggest to me!**_

_**much love, **_

_**Angel **_


	3. Let Love Lead The Way

_**Gosh, I am so sorry that it took so long to update this! I was in the process of moving and then I started school and I just couldn't find any time to write. But, here's the next chapter.**_

_**Thanks you immensely to my reviewers: **KiwiStar**, **RandomRonnie450**, **DeathDaisy**, **Addy**, **quidditchandsonicscrewdriver s**, **xArmyxWifex**, **RatedrKjErIcHo**, **nic-002001**, **BubblyShell22**, and **the anonymous reviewer**. You guys seriously motivate me and the response to this fic has been SO great considering there have only been two chapters.**_

_**I only own Bree, her parents, Angela & Ben, and Dr. Salazar. Everything else belongs to the WWE or their respective owners. **_

_**Read, review & enjoy**_

_**onward and upward,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel **_

_**Song Used: Let Love Lead the Way by the Spice Girls. (Thank you Addy for the suggestion!) **_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter III: Let Love Lead The Way**_

_**-Summer-**_

_What makes this world go round_

_will the answer let her down_

_she is so sweet and young_

_and her life has just begun_

_what does her future hold_

_that's the story left unknown_

_will she make it through her days,_

_let our love lead the way_

It was like a blow to the chest that completely knocked the breath out of you and left you gasping but unable to capture that breath you so desperately need. You feel like you're going to die for a moment, that your whole body will give out on you and you will crumble to several useless pieces.

That is what it felt like when you're told the love of your life has cancer.

Phil was trying, he was trying so _damn hard_, to look at things positively. People survived cancer every day, they went into remission, treatments worked. All the time.

But there was that nagging, negative, pessimistic voice in the back of his head that kept reminding him that every day, people also _died _from cancer.

Death. He couldn't say he handled it well. Who did? But then again, he'd never experienced the death of someone he considered his better half.

No, he couldn't think like that. Couldn't think that Bree was going to die. Because she wasn't.

He wasn't going to treat her as such either, their life would continue on, the world would keep turning, despite her diagnosis.

/

Her mother had left the room as soon as he had come bursting into the house, pulling Bree into his arms without a word.

Her tears were gone he noticed, as she had him sit down in a chair across from her.

God, he'd thought she was pregnant, or something.

Not this.

He'd prefer the baby.

"H-how bad?" he cleared his throat, hating the slight halt in his voice and the trembling in his hands, which he curled into fists just to make them cease their shaking.

She shook her head, "my doctors can't tell much at the moment. I have to go in for some more tests, so they can determine how serious it is."

"It's cancer, it's gonna be serious any way you look at it."

He didn't mean to snap, but she didn't flinch back. She knew he wasn't angry at her, he was angry at the situation. Angry that of all the people in the world, someone like Bree was the one who got this burden pressed upon her. She understood that, she felt the same anger, but felt the same resignation that it was too late to change anything, there was no going back in time, she had to face this obstacle like thousands of others had to.

He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, letting out a sigh as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I just...I...I don't know."

Speechless, a word that wasn't applied to him often. He always had something to say, always. Always, always, always.

Not then, he had no words for the ache in his chest then.

He looked up, opening his arms as he straightened, "Bree."

The way he said her name, in the tenderest tone he held in his vocal range, made her heart jolt as she lifted her eyes to see him waiting for her.

She stood and crossed to where he sat, sliding into his lap, letting him hold her.

She didn't cry, her tears were gone now, all used up.

Now she was silent and listened to his fitful breathing and he tried to hold back his own tears.

Tears weren't her thing. She'd told him that once, in those exact words, and being the guy he was, he was kind of relieved. The worst thing in the world was an oversensitive girlfriend who cried every time she took a joke the wrong way.

Now he wished that she would cry, so he could have something to do in that moment, something to distract her from his own tears.

He pressed his face into her hair, squeezing his eyes shut. She brushed her fingers soothingly through his hair, playing with the strands as she hummed softly to him, murmuring that it would be okay.

"I'm tough." She murmured, her voice surprisingly strong and sure.

He felt a tear slowly escape the corner of his eye as he sniffled and pulled back from her, clearing his throat his eyes searched for hers. She wiped the tear from his cheek with her thumb.

"I know," he said softly.

"I'll make it through this just fine," she assured him, smoothing his hair back and holding the sides of his head as she stared into his eyes.

He tried to push his fear aside and feel the hope and certainty that she obviously did, but he had a hard time when a side of him was strongly pessimistic and brutally honest.

Honestly, Bree was only putting on a brave face because she saw the fear in Phil's eyes when she told him, she read it through his body language, and she could hear it in the tone of his voice even though he was trying to keep it at bay.

And because of that, she stayed strong for him, and let him show his vulnerable side which was rarely ever let off it's leash. It was usually subdued and controlled.

Bree had always been known as the strong one, the one with the stone armor. She let nothing get to her. Or at least, if something did bug her, she never let on that it did. No one knew her fears, no one knew what she saw as her flaws, no one knew what made her tick or what hurt her feelings because she did one hell of a good job at not showing a reaction.

Her loud volume and sarcastic sense of humor were her shield and she hid behind them daily.

Phil knew this. He'd cracked her open a few times and seen the real her. When she was without her weapons and armor, she looked like any other normal woman. Slightly insecure, aware of her flaws, sensitive and wanting to be accepted. She had fears like anyone else, for example, her large case of arachnophobia.

She allowed Phil to see her at her weakest, when she wasn't proud of herself, when she was down for the count, both shoulders on the mat.

And that's why he let her hold him when he was in that position himself. It was a mutual agreement that these vulnerabilities were kept between them. They were special, secret moments that they alone shared and it bound them together with and incredible strength.

He would be there for her through every step because in a few more minutes he would be completely back under control. He would be strong for her and she would be strong for him, and every now and then, one of them would crumble and the other one would step up to the supply the defense for the other.

It was an unspoken agreement. But it was one they had made months ago. Months before they knew this would happen. Months before everything was threatened.

Months before they would both crumble together and there would be no defenses left.

_part of me laughs_

_part of me cries_

_part of me wants to question why_

_why is there joy_

_and why is there pain_

_why is there sunshine and the rain_

_one day you're here_

_next you are gone_

_no matter what we must go on_

_just keep the faith_

_and let love lead the way_

Vince had been expecting Phil's call. He knew it would be coming shortly after Vince himself had spoken with Bree over the phone.

The Chairman of the WWE didn't mention to Phil that he had been aware of the diagnosis before Phil had. He instead just listened and acquiesced to Phil's demands.

"Just be back for Monday." Vince said.

"I will." Phil replied, trying to reign in his shock that Vince would give in to his requests so easily.

"And please keep me informed on Breann's...condition." Vince honestly didn't know how to put the words without sounding insensitive. He felt he would fail anyway he put it.

Phil sighed heavily, "of course, you'll be one of the first calls when we find out more."

"Good. And Phil?"

"Yes?"

"Take care of her." And with that, Vince ended the phone call.

Phil pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it a moment.

He had every intention of taking care of Bree, he intended to do so for the rest of his life.

He looked up when the double doors opened and Bree walked through, no longer in a hospital gown, but back in her normal attire. She'd always made him stop, and take a brief moment to just look at her, because in a cheesy romance movie way, she captivated him.

His smile was soft as she approached him and he kissed her forehead while placing an arm around her, turning them toward the direction which would lead to the parking garage.

"How did things go?" He asked, his tongue working his lip ring, it was a nervous habit of his.

She shrugged, "good I guess. I dunno. They got what they needed." She sighed, "now we have to wait a few days for Dr. Salazar to get my results and then look over them before she meets with us."

Phil nodded, he was trying to keep himself in a positive frame of mind. He was trying to keep himself together just in case Bree crumbled and needed him.

But who the fuck was he kidding, he was scared out of his mind for Bree. He was nervous about going and hearing what the doctor had to say about the test results.

He wanted to know, yet he didn't want to know.

"Hey," Bree squeezed his hand, "you okay?"

He forced a smile to his lips as he looked down at her, "I'm fine. I should be asking you that."

She shrugged, "I'm all good."

He studied her for a moment before he nodded, accepting her answer.

"What did Vince say?" she asked.

"That as long as I show up for RAW on Monday it's a-okay for me to take some time off."

"You know I'll be okay if you do go back on the road."

His hand tightened around hers, "I want to be here, don't make me leave because you don't want me to see you when you're weak."

"It has nothing to do with that. But it has everything to do with you keeping your dream job."

"I'm not going to fight with you over this. Vince already okay-ed it."

"But he won't every time."  
She had a valid point, but he really didn't want to fight with her.

Phil sighed heavily, "Bree."

"Phil." She replied.

"I love you."

She softened, a smile curling her lips as she melted, "I love you too."

/

Bree glanced over at Phil as he sat in one of the armchairs in her parent's living room. He was scrolling through his contacts, a sticky note with a couple names on the side table next to the chair.

She'd confessed to him that she couldn't do it. She couldn't call her friends and tell them she had breast cancer. It wasn't that big a deal—at least she hoped it wasn't—and she didn't think she could take hearing their fear and sympathy and worry.

Phil agreed to do it for her and Bree had produced a list of names. _Eve, Matt, Beth, Nattie, Barbie, John, Mike, Stephen, and Bryan. _All her main friends, the close ones.

Each phone call as Phil went down the list, had his frown deepening. He finished the final call with a heavy, loud sigh which gained Bree's attention.

She looked over at him as he placed his phone on the table and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired, actually tired enough to possibly get a suitable amount of sleep.

"Well," he let out another breath, "everyone's worried, and they want to be kept posted." He shook his head, "when Barbs started crying.." he trailed off as Bree worried her lip between her teeth as her leg twitched in its usual nervous manner.

"Thank you, for making the calls," she said quickly as he stood from the chair. She knew for sure now, she wouldn't have been able to do it.

He walked across the room, stopping in front of her to kiss her softly, "let's go to bed."

She nodded and took his offered hand before he led her to the guest bedroom.

/

Phil laughed incredulously, a bitter sound that cut through the air, "really Matt, I don't know what to think right now. My mind is all over the place."

The Long Island Iced Z sighed through the line, "I just...I..I'm kinda still shocked. Out of all the people...it's Bree."

"I know, that's how I feel." Phil mumbled. He had called Matt and given him the basics a couple days ago, but had promised he'd call later to talk to him about it more in depth. Now he was making good on that promise.

Besides Phil and Eve, Matt was Bree's best friend. When he'd received the call form Phil, he hadn't been given the sugar-coated version. He wasn't just told she had breast cancer. No, he was told she had breast cancer but the doctors feared it had already spread, they feared it had gotten worse, out of hand.

So now, Matt stood, hunched over on the edge of his hotel bed, one hand holding his cell to his ear, his other hand buried deep in his hair, clenching it tightly at the roots.

"I mean, she's healthier than anyone I know." Matt said, it was too late to give reasons as to why she shouldn't be sick, because she was already sick, already diagnosed. "In the greatest shape out of all the Divas."

"I know," Phil agreed quietly.

"When do you find out more?"

"This afternoon actually. The doctor's office called this morning and said the doctor wanted to see us today if possible. We have nothing better to do, so...we're going."

"And you'll find out about treatments and stuff then?"

"I think so."

"Okay, well, call me later tonight and let me know how it went, okay?"

"Yeah, of course, man. You know I will, you're her best friend."

"God, I hope she'll be okay," Matt said, sounding genuinely fearful.

"She's tough."

"I know, but cancer doesn't care if you're tough or not."

Phil sighed. Matt had a point.

_sitting there all alone in the window of her room_

_watching the world go by_

_brings tears to her eyes_

_all she sees is hurt and pain,_

_she wants to break the chain_

_she'll keep pressing every day_

_and she'll find her own sweet way _

Phil rapped his knuckles on the door frame lightly.

Bree turned her head to look at him, but didn't move the rest of her body. She kept herself curled inward, arms wrapped around her pulled up knees as she sat on the little ledge seat beneath the window in the guest bedroom.

As their eyes met and they watched each other, Phil thought back to the doctor's appointment they had returned from several hours earlier.

/

"I'm afraid we've found several tumors." Dr. Salazar spoke as soon as she was in her office and seated behind her desk.

Breann blinked at the woman as Phil's hand tightened around hers.

"How many?"

"Almost a dozen. It seems the cancer, which began in your breast, spread and has now developed in your bones as well as your cervix." Dr. Salazar kept eyes contact with Bree. Despite the fact that she gave news like this to people on a daily basis, it still stung. Bree was so young, she had so much more life to live, she hated to give a woman like Bree this kind of news.

"Is, is there some kind of treatment at least?" Phil asked.

Dr. Salazar straightened with a nod and a tight-lipped smile. "Of course. We don't have many options in your case, but there is one I would like to try. I would like to surgically remove these tumors."

"Okay, when can we do the surgery?" Bree asked, her voice rushed and cracked.

"The thing is, at the moment, the tumors are quite large and would be a hassle to try and remove at all seeing as they're spread throughout your body. Some of them are in very...sensitive areas, where if we tried to remove them now we could risk doing more harm than good. Instead, I would like to try chemo first, to shrink the tumors. Some may even disappear completely from the chemo, before we do the surgery." Dr. Salazar explained, speaking with her hands, which was a habit of hers.

"Chemo..." Bree murmured.

There was one thing she really didn't want to do, and that was chemotherapy. She saw what it did to a person, and she didn't want to end up like that. Sick and miserable. She couldn't live like that.

"Normally, in most cases, we can try hormone therapy. But from what we have gathered, your cancer cells are Hormone receptor-negative. In other words, hormone treatment will have no effect. So chemo is our only option to try and shrink them." Dr. Salazar explained.

"When can she start that?" Phil asked.

Bree snatched her hand away from Phil's quickly, turning an angry glare on him, "I'm not doing chemo."

Dr. Salazar looked just as shocked as Phil did.

"What?" Phil asked.

"I-I can't put myself through that. I won't." She shook her head and stood. "I-I need a minute."

She walked out of Dr. Salazar's office and through the halls with examination room which branched off of it. She stepped out into the waiting room and took a deep breath, leaning against the wall.

"Bad news?"

She glanced over to see a man who was maybe in his early-to-mid thirties leaning against he wall about two feet down from her.

"Yeah," her response was breathless.

"I'm Stage Four Melanoma," he smirked slightly, holding out his hand, "what's yours?"

"Metastatic Breast Cancer," she replied, shaking his proffered hand.

He nodded, "ah, another member of the fourth stage. They're the active ones."

"Yep. It's taken to the track on my bones and cervix."

He hissed slightly and it turned into a whistle which dropped off, "that'll be a tough one."

"Isn't it always?"

"Well...yes." He chuckled dryly. "Always tough, but not invincible. I've been living with this monkey on my back for nine years now. I was diagnosed when I was around your age."

"Twenty eight?" She asked.

He shrugged, "twenty seven. I'm 36 now."

Bree nodded before smirking, "monkey on your back, I like that."

"Well, my mole was monkey shaped and on my back. So it fits."

"Did you do chemo?" She asked.

"Is that what's got you running out of the doctor's office? Chemo?"

She didn't reply. It was enough of an answer for him.

"I did, at first. They'd thought they'd caught it early enough." He shrugged one shoulder, "they hadn't." He glanced over at her, "each person responds to it differently, you know? Some don't take it as bad as they portray it in the movies."

Bree was silent for a moment as memories of her grandmother flashed in her head. Her once strong and vivid grandmother had dwindled to skin, bones and vomit because of chemotherapy.

"You're young, look strong, you'll probably make it through chemo well."

She shrugged, "it's the one thing I don't want to do."

"What if it saves your life?"

She had returned to Dr. Salazar's office after that, to find Phil and the doctor still sitting, in the midst of conversation when she opened the door.

"I-I'll try the chemo," her voice was barely above a whisper but Dr. Salazar caught it and nodded.

Phil stared at Bree, studying her as she stayed standing in the doorway. He may be straightedge and against prescription drugs that promised to heal you but caused unruly side effects and addiction.

But he knew they had to do something.

/

When they had returned home, Bree had explained to her parents about her treatment. She'd be doing six sessions of chemotherapy and the doctor would continually monitor the size of her tumors.

"What if it doesn't work?" Angela, Bree's mother, voiced the question they were all afraid to ask.

Bree shrugged, "then we look at other options."

"But didn't you just say Dr. Salazar said there weren't many options?"

"Well I'm sure there's more than one Mom." Bree left the room after she finished her sentence.

Phil glanced over at Bree's father, Ben. The man before Phil was not the Ben he was used to. Ben was strong, hard-working, but always joking around with people. Bree often referred to her father as the family's social butterfly. He was good with people in general, always talking to someone.

Now he sat with his hands folded and elbows on his knees, head down, shoulders slumped, looking utterly defeated.

Bree had mentioned to Phil once that when hard times hit her family, her father struggled with a deep depression. She'd confessed to Phil as well that the trait had carried on into her, and she had found herself in that big black hole of despair more than once.

"Hey," Phil said softly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "she'll be fine. She's stronger than all of us put together."

Ben looked up at the younger man, the ghost of a smile on his face, "she's just like her grandmother."  
That's when Phil realized why this was shaking Ben so much. Bree's grandmother had died of lung cancer, that same grandmother was Ben's mother.

It was too close a comparison for the man, and Phil realized that now.

"She'll be okay," Phil murmured and Ben just nodded silently before he stood up and left the room, wiping at his eyes.

Phil glanced over at Angela, who was looking lost as she stared at the far wall.

"She's just scared," Phil said reassuringly to the woman.

Angela smiled briefly, "I know. But I'm scared too."

"We all are."

"If I lose her, I'll lose Ben too. He'll never come back from losing her."

Phil's heart constricted for the woman. Angela had always been wonderful to him since the first time she met. She was a baker, always had something freshly out of the oven when he came over. The first question she'd asked him when she met him wasn't "where are you from" or "what's your line of work" no, it was "what's your favorite type of cookie?"

Angela looked up at him, an apologetic frown crossing her features, "oh look at me, complaining about myself when you're here. You love her too."

"I do." Phil murmured, running a hand over his hair. He blew out a breath, "I'm gonna go talk to her."  
"Okay," Angela said as they both stood, "I'm going to go make you some peanut butter cookies, your favorite."

She'd always remembered that.

/

He'd found Bree sitting on the porch with her cat Sammy curled up on her lap.

She turned her head and watched him as he sat down next to her and put his arm around her. Sammy lifted his furry black head and let out a lazy "mer-row" as he looked up at Phil through half-closed eyes.

Phil chuckled and scratched the cat behind his ears, which elicited a purr from the black feline.

Bree smiled softly and leaned her head against Phil's shoulder. They were both silent for several moments, just watching Sammy as he lay blissfully unaware of the thoughts brewing in the household.

"We need to talk about this." Phil said softly with a heavy breath.

"What is there to talk about?" Bree asked, staring out at their neighbor's house across the street where a little boy and girl were investigating a tree that a squirrel had just run up.

"I dunno...what you're going to need from me, if you need to see a professional to talk to, whatever."

"I don't need you to do anything more, you do enough for me."

"You're going to need me now more than ever."

"I'm not dying."

He closed his eyes, and reminded himself that that was true. The doctor's hadn't said she was dying, the statistics just weren't very good. The five year survival rate was only 27%.

"No, you're not. But, the chemo..."

"I know what the chemo will do. That's why I didn't want to do it in the first place."

"Well you have to do something."

"I am! I said I'd do the fucking chemo!"

Sammy jumped off of Bree's lap at the sudden raising of voices. With a displeased meow he slid off into the bushes.

"I don't want to talk about this," Bree said.

Several tense minutes of silence followed.

"Ignoring it won't make it go away Bree."

"There's not a guarantee that doing the chemo will make it go away either."

"You're not dying." He repeated what she'd said earlier.

"I know. And that's why I'm not going to let you put your life on hold. I don't need you to, I don't need you and my parents to baby me and feel sorry for me. I can still function, I can still do things."

She was on her feet now, "I don't want everyone's lives to revolve around me because of some fucking cancer."

She turned and walked into the house, slamming the front door behind her. Her steps were loud as she jogged up the staircase.

Phil didn't leave his spot, he just sat there, not sure what to do.

A throat clearing itself caught Phil's attention. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting out there, but his back was stiff from the lack of support while sitting in the same position. Phil turned slightly to see Ben standing in the doorway.

"She will need you. I know, over anyone else, she'll want you there with her every step of the way. Just give her a little while to cool down and be the independent, stubborn woman she is." Ben sighed, "she doesn't want to lose herself to this disease, just treat her like your normally would, that's what she really needs right now."

One corner of Phil's mouth lifted slightly as he nodded once, "thanks."

Ben smiled just slightly, but it didn't reach his brown eyes, "now I would invite you to share a beer with me, but I know you don't partake in that kind of stuff. So I'll invite you in for a Pepsi."

Phil smiled and chuckled slightly before getting up and following Bree's father into the house.

/

That had been three hours ago. He'd shared his Pepsi with her father and eaten several more peanut butter cookies than he really should have. He'd given Bree her time, and now he wanted to try talking to her again.

Phil dropped his hand from the door frame after he knocked and he watched Bree look over at him.

Tears.

He crossed the room and took her into his arms without asking if that's what she wanted or needed.

She didn't fight him, but instead let him hold her. He picked her up into his arms and then sat down on the window seat with her on his lap. She pressed her face into his neck, her tears falling and trailing down his skin, leaving dark marks on his shirt.

He didn't speak, just brushed his fingers through her dark hair slowly, his other hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing rhythmic circles onto her skin.

Her tears and sobs lasted several minutes. She didn't cry very often, but when she did, it was like a damn broke and an ocean poured forth.

"I'm trying to think positively," she sniffled, "but it's not really working."  
He turned his head and pressed his lips to her forehead, "just repeat after me," he murmured.

She nodded and let out a mumbled 'okay.'

"I," he began and waited expectantly.

"I," she repeated.

"Will get better."

"Will get better."  
"I will be okay."

"I will be okay," her voice cracked slightly.

"I'll make it through with the help and love of my family."

"I'll make it through with the help and love of my family."

"And I'll spend the rest of my life with my sexy-ass boyfriend who is always right about everything and is the best in the world."

"Nice try."

He chuckled, "it was worth a shot."

_part of me wants to question why_

_why is there pain_

_why is there sunshine and then the rain_

_one day you're here_

_next you are gone_

_no matter what we must go on_

_just keep the faith_

_and let love lead the way_


	4. Runaway Train

_**Holy fudge and crackers guys! This chapter is 10,000 words long! I have no idea why it got so long, but it did and since this fic is gonna be shorter I didn't feel like I should split the chapter up in the middle. Plust I don't think you guys will complain about the chapter being TOO LONG. **_

_**Speaking of my readers...**_

_**You guys are absolutely amazing.**_

_**Before I get to the thank yous first I have to admit that not all the lyrics in this chapter are from songs that mention rain. 2 of the 4 do...so...since I'm the author I'm gonna say it works. There are some songs that I think just work too well to leave them out, so I'm gonna use them even though they don't mention rain or whatever.**_

_**Now that that's out of the way. A huge "thank you" to my reviewers: **KiwiStar**, **Addy **(thanks again for the suggestions! I'm gonna look those songs up!), **DeathDaisy**, **nic-002001**, and **LilaSpencer **(thank you darling for the suggestion, I've actually already picked out the lyrics from that song that I want to use :], but if you think of anything else, let me know!). **_

_**I only own Bree & her parents. That is all. **_

_**Songs Used (In Order): Don't Give Up by Peter Gabriel, Thunder by Boys Like Girls, The Show Must Go On by Queen and Runaway Train by Soul Asylum **_

_**Onward and upward,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel**_

_**PS- sorry for any grammatical errors. If there's anything that really bugs you, let me know and I'll fix it! **_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter IV: Runaway Train**_

_Though I saw it all around_

_never thought I could be affected_

_it is so strange the way things turn_

She prayed silently that the bathroom door, which was notorious for its loud creaking, would skip over the noise-making for the day. She had gotten the guest bedroom door to open and close without a sound, now she just needed to get into the bathroom without incident and she would be able to get out of the house without waking anyone up.

She'd gotten through the bedroom door without a sound because when it was halfway open she stopped pushing against the wood and instead turned back to look at Phil one more time. He was sleeping peacefully, soundly, wrapped up in the navy blue sheets, his tattooed chest rising and falling evenly.

Bree bit her lip, she'd wanted to crawl back into bed and have Phil wrap his arms around her, but she'd already gotten this far, and she had somewhere to be.

Sighing, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to imagine what she would look like without hair. It was one of the many side effects the chemotherapy would bring, she wasn't going to try to ignore it. She would be bald in a month or so.

She fingered her long dark hair, kneading her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes flickered over to the medicine cabinet where she knew a pair of scissors was kept.

She shook her head, picked up her brush and began to tug it through her brown hair. Next, she changed into the clothes that she had set out on the top of her dresser the night before.

This silent escape had been pre-planned.

As much as she wanted Phil and her parents around, she didn't want them to see her during chemo. She wanted to be alone during the sessions because it would be hard enough to see the aftermath of it at home, they didn't need to see her sitting with the IV in her arm. They didn't need to make the realization that if this didn't work, she'd probably die.

So she didn't want them there, and she knew they'd argue with her and go anyway if she told them not to, so she devised her way of sneaking out. She couldn't wake anyone up, because then they'd go with her. She had to be silent and step lightly around the old house.

She slipped on her shoes by the front door, picked up her purse and then slid out into the cool morning air. She couldn't hold in her relieved sigh.

She'd made it out of the house without waking anyone up. She smiled proudly to herself as she unlocked her car and got behind the wheel, turning the car on and pulling out onto the street, making her way to the Moberly Regional Medical Center.

It was hard for her to wrap her mind around the situation. Cancer. She had cancer. Not just any kind of cancer but a deadly one with low survival rates.

Cancer was one of those things that you saw happen to people around you, but you never even once think that you'll be the one with it. It's always someone else's mother, or aunt or grandpa. Never yourself.

Now she was facing the reality of it.

She had it too.

She shifted her car into park after maneuvering herself into one of the stalls in the main parking lot for the oncology wing of the hospital. Bree sighed, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel.

For a brief moment she regretted going alone, but then she thought of her grandma, withering, reduced to nothingness from chemotherapy, and suddenly Bree was okay with being there alone again.

She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and then slid out of the car, closing the door and locking it before heading into through the automatic double doors.

_rest your head_

_you worry too much_

_it's going to be alright_

_when times get rough_

_you can fall back on us_

_don't give up _

_please don't give up_

"Hi, I'm Breann Thompson, I'm here for my first," she stuttered over her words, "c-chemotherapy session."

The nurse, a pretty woman in her mid-to-late thirties with dark blond hair, smiled at her. "Good morning," the nurse's blue eyes darted around the treatment room to find that only she and Breann were there. "Did you come alone?"

"Um," Bree swallowed, "yeah, I did."

The nurse, Debra, her name tag read, smiled sympathetically, she could understand it. That didn't mean she agreed with it. "Well, you should probably call someone to bring you lunch and drive you home once you're done, okay? You may feel a little weak, and since it's your first session we don't know how you'll react, so its safest if you don't drive. If you can't get anyone to come pick you up, we can arrange you a ride home through one of our services."

"O-okay," Bree replied, her eyes not meeting the nurse's.

"Okie dokie, let's get you set up." Debra said with a nod, picking up her clipboard and leading Bree over to one of the chairs that were there for the chemo patients. "Now, have you started taking the medications Dr. Salazar prescribed for you that are pre-chemo drugs?"

"Yes." And she had, she'd followed her medication schedule to a T. Phil had been making sure of it.

"Good, and you know which ones you take after chemo?"

"Yes." She had a list of them in her purse and on her nightstand and on the refrigerator.

"Great, you can have a seat here, and I'll get your chemo going in a minute."

"How long will it take?"

"You're taking a pretty large, strong dose, so I'd say three or four hours, maybe more."

"Okay."

"Like I said, call someone, have them keep you company. I'll be right back," she patted Bree's arm before turning and disappearing into a supply room of some sort.

Bree sat down in the chair, surprised by the comfortableness of the cushions. She let out a sigh before reaching into her bag and pulling out her worn, dog-eared, high-lighted copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The classic had been her favorite since she first read it in high school. Phil made fun of her reading choices normally, but he knew not to mess with her Huck Finn. He could joke about her reading Call of the Wild all he wanted, as long as he didn't rip on Mark Twain.

She was staring at the battered cover when the nurse returned, ready to put the IV in Bree's arm. The nurse got everything going and then with a smile told Bree that if she needed anything to just call her over. Bree nodded and then opened her book once the nurse was gone, starting from the first page for what had to be the 200th time.

_don't give up_

_'cause you have friends_

_don't give up_

_you're not the only one_

_don't give up_

_you still have us_

_don't give up_

_you know it's never been easy_

_don't give up_

She tried to read, she honestly did, but for some reason she couldn't focus on the words that she practically knew by heart.

With an irritated sigh she sat back and set the book down on the arm of the chair. A two-toned beep sounded from somewhere close to her and she blinked. It took her a moment to realize that it was her phone that made that sound.

She leaned forward, careful of the tube in her arm, and reached her free hand down into her purse, pulling out her cell phone. The green light blinked back at her, informing her that she had a message.

She unlocked her phone and her eyes widened when a window popped up saying she had 30 text messages, 23 missed calls and 16 voice messages.

"Well then," she muttered to herself as she dialed in her password to her voicemail and then held her phone to her ear.

_"Bree...I really wish you'd answer your phone. This is my...sixth call. I've realized now you're not going to pick up so I decided to leave a message. I need to hear it from you that you're okay, alright B? So call me back and we can talk. I know you're probably tired just having Phil to talk to. Love you Smoochie." _

Bree pulled her phone from her ear, chewing her lip, knowing she would need to call Matt. She deleted the message and then prepared herself to listen to the next one.

_ "Bree, hey, um...I just wanted to see how you're doing. I talked to Phil and...I-" _Eve's voice cut in and out in the message_, "um, I don't really know what to say right now. Call me when you can, okay? Bye." _

The next few messages, from Beth, Nattie, Bryan, John, a couple more from Matt, and various others were all much of the same. Asking how she was doing, requesting to be notified when she found out more information, begging her to call back or text or something.

The last message was what shook Bree.

_ "Bree? I—It's Barbie." _There was a long pause, in the background there were sobs and sniffles. _"I was going to call after Phil...told me about what happened. But it took me a while to wrap my head around it, so I'm sure this must be so hard for you. Can you please call me back and let me know you're __okay? I miss you Bree and I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything, and I can't control it but...I'm sorry. This shouldn't be happening to you. Or to anybody. But especially not you. Y-you're one of my best friends._" Barbie was crying, her words garbled by her tears. _"If you need anyone to talk to, call me, okay?" _

Bree bit her lip and leaned forward in her chair, gripping her phone tightly in her hand. She ran her other hand through her hair, trying to take slow, deep breaths to calm herself. The last thing she wanted was to start crying now. There were other patients in the chemo room, receiving their own treatments. Two more nurses were working at the desk now with Debra. She didn't want to cry in front of all these people.

With one last deep breath she raised herself back up, straightening her back. She cleared her throat and released the tight grip her fingers had on her phone.

She dialed a number she knew by heart and quickly put the phone to her ear as the rings began.

"Bree?"

"Hey Matt."

He let out a relieved sigh, "Bree, I'm so glad you called. How are you?"

"I'm...okay." She subconsciously looked down at the IV tube in her arm and swallowed, focusing back on her conversation.

"Now can I get the truthful answer?"

She let out a short, half-enthused chuckle, "seriously Matt. I'm still...processing, I guess. I'm okay though, not dying, not depressed, I'm okay."

He was silent for a moment before sighing again, "I guess I'll believe that for now. What are you up to?"

"Um..."

"Bree." His tone was expectant.

"I'm..."  
"At your first chemotherapy session alone?"

"H-How?"

"Phil called me."

"Fuck." She muttered under her breath.

"Did you really think you would be able to go to chemo and make it back without him waking up and realizing you're gone? You're going to be there for a couple hours, aren't you? You should know better than anyone that Phil won't sleep in that long."

"Matt, I just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't want him here."

"Have fun trying to tell him that."

"Don't be a douche about it."

"You shouldn't be doing this alone."

Matt had a point, Bree could recognize that. But she knew Phil. Sarcastic, strong-willed, pessimistic, and opinionated were all words she used to describe him. Nurturing and overly-sympathetic were not ones she used very often. She knew Phil was uncomfortable about everything, he wasn't accepting of it, he wanted to fight against it. But there was nothing he could do.

And that was the whole problem.

Nothing Phil could, can or will do will change anything about her condition. Neither of them had any control over it. The doctor's didn't even have control of the situation. There was no way to take control.

It was like sitting in the driver's seat, with your foot on the gas pedal and being unable to put your hands on the steering wheel.

"I need to call Eve," Bree murmured.

Matt sighed, "this conversation isn't over Bree."

"Yes sir," she muttered.

"I'm being serious."

"I know. Goodbye Matt."

She hung up the phone and sat for a minute. Bree glanced up at the door, knowing Phil was on his way there. She dialed Eve's number, her eyes never leaving the doorway.

"Hello?" Eve sounded out of breath when she answered.

"Eve?"

"Oh my gosh, Bree. How are you honey?"

Bree was going to answer the question when Eve quickly cut her off.

"Never mind, I won't get an honest answer."

Bree rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for calling me back though," Eve caught her breath before saying.

"You don't need to thank me for that."

"I know, I just...knew to not expect you to. I know that when things like this happen you close yourself up."

"Things like this?"

"Traumatic things. Like when you're grandma died, when that one douchebag ex of yours broke up with you. You're like a clam, you snap yourself shut and don't let anybody see you when you're vulnerable or hurt."

"So does that mean I'm off the hook if I don't have feeling time with you right now?"

Bree could imagine her friend rolling her eyes, "for now, I'll let it slide. So...did you guys find out anything else?"

"Not much, I mean, Phil told you really all we know. I'm at my first chemo session right now."

"You are?"

"Yep."

"D-does it hurt?"

"Not really, just the uncomfortable feeling of having an IV in your arm. I think the crappy part comes later."

"Uh," Eve cleared her throat awkwardly.  
"Right, sorry, I'll try to be more optimistic." Bree said quickly, realizing Eve didn't know how to respond to her previous statement.

"Deal. Have you talked to Barbie?"

"Not yet, I'm going down the list calling you guys. I've only talked to Matt so far, and then I called you."

"Oh okay, well, call her next, she really wants to hear from you. She's been really worried."

"I'll call her next then."

"Okay, I know I said you wouldn't have to answer this but, how are you, really?"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Matt. I'm okay—I'm..."

Bree's eyes locked with a pair of olive green eyes. Phil stood in the doorway, staring directly at her. Bree remembered the first time she saw those eyes stare at her like that.

_Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer_

_Do you know you're unlike any other?_

_You'll always been my thunder, and I said_

_your eyes are the brightest of all the colors _

_I don't wanna ever love another_

_You'll always be my thunder_

_so bring on the rain_

_and bring on the thunder._

Phil growled under his breath before slamming his foot into the side of his rental car. "Fuck."

"Uh, hey. Phil?" The voice was questioning and uncertain.

He really didn't want to be bothered right now, especially not by the new girl. The newly acquired model who probably couldn't wrestle her way out of a box.

"What?" He snapped as he turned to face her. The rain was heavy, plastering his long hair to his face and neck.

She raised her eyebrows, pushing her now soaking wet long brown hair out of her face. "You locked out?"

"No, I just fucking love standing out in the middle of a downpour." He quipped sarcastically.

She didn't seem phased, "well, I do," she shrugged, being totally honest. She loved the rain personally, but she understood that not everyone felt that way.

"What are you doing besides asking pointless questions?" He asked.

"Trying to offer your dumb ass a ride back to the hotel." She placed her hands on her hips.

He rolled his eyes, he didn't need her help. If anything she needed his help. "I think I'll pass."  
"Really? So, you're just going to stand out here in a torrential down pour and wait for your rental to magically unlock itself instead of taking the kind offer of a ride in a warm, dry car."

"I don't get into cars with strangers."

She held out her hand, "I'm Bree. You're Phil. Now we're not strangers."

"I don't know anything about you. You could be an ax murderer for all I know."  
She rolled her eyes, "oh yeah, cause I'm carrying my favorite ax in my purse," she said, shaking the leather handbag she was holding for emphasis. "Seriously, stop making excuses and get in the car before I leave your sorry ass here."

"Stop insulting me and maybe I will."

"You're the one who's refusing to get in the car because of a preconceived judgment."

"What?"

"Oh c'mon, you're like plexiglass. Totally transparent. You think I'm some model who's never stepped in a ring before, totally demure, rude, a bit of a diva or a brat, whichever you prefer. And you think I'll be a useless annoyance here in the WWE, just another set of tits to show off on TV. Well, in case you haven't noticed, my tits are not that great. Ergo, I'm a real wrestler, professionally trained, who's worked the independent circuit and busted my ass to get here. So you can take your judgment and shove it straight up your ass. Now, are you going to get in the car or what? Stop being a dick," She motioned toward her own rental car.

Phil stood and blinked, completely shocked and taken aback by the woman.

Slowly, a smile slid into place on his mouth. "Don't get your panties in a twist, I'm getting in the car."

She smirked and watched as he walked over to the passenger side, throwing his duffel bag in the bag seat.

_Today is a winding road_

_it's taken me to places that I didn't want to go_

_Today in the blink of an eye_

_I'm holding on to something and I do not know why_

_I tried_

_I'm walking on a tightrope_

_I'm wrapped up in vines_

_I think I'll make it out_

_But you just gotta give me time_

_strike me down with lightning_

_Let me feel you in my veins_

_I wanna let you know how much I feel your pain_

"Eve, I uh," Bree swallowed, her gaze never leaving Phil's, "I have to go."

"Um, okay. Promise you'll call me back later?" Eve said.

"I promise," Bree whispered before hanging up her cellphone as Phil walked toward her.

"I don't want you here." Bree stated once Phil was within a few feet from her.

"And I don't really care whether you want me here or not," he said, stopping in front of her.

"Please leave."

"No."

"Then consider us not on speaking terms."

"Sounds good to me."

"Sir, would you like a chair?" Debra asked after approaching the couple.

"A chair would be great, thank you." Phil replied sending a charming smile toward the nurse and a pointed look at Bree.

The brunette glared at him before crossing her arms and looking away.

Debra brought over a chair and Phil thanked her, positioning it next to Bree.

Phil set the plastic bag that he had been carrying down on the small table next to the patient chair. He looked at her but she refused to look back at him. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before picking up her copy of Huck Finn and flipping it open.

"Oh great," Phil muttered and she glared down at her book. "Fine, I can play this game," he said and produced a comic book from the plastic bag. As the bag fell open a distinctive scent caught her attention. Her eyes flickered over to the bag quickly but she couldn't make out what was inside. But it smelt heavenly, and familiar.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Phil smirk. He knew she'd been looking.

She focused back on her book, trying to ignore the man sitting next to her.

The mysterious plastic bag was seriously bugging her though.

She shifted in her seat, trying to covertly get a glimpse into the bag.

"You could always just ask what's inside." Phil said, not even looking up from his comic book.

She threw herself against the back of the chair with a huff, her book abandoned in her lap. She turned her head to look at him, really look at him.

His hair wasn't gelled back, a sign that he had rushed to get ready. He was in a pair of loose fitting genes and a black hoodie hung over his frame, layered over a t-shirt. He didn't tense under her gaze, or look uncomfortable, he just continued reading his comic book.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "I'm not angry."

"I know. If you were angry you wouldn't be quiet, you'd be yelling."

A corner of her mouth twitched upward, he had a point.

"I just...don't want to put you through this."

With a long sigh he closed his reading material and smoothed his hand over the cover before looking up at her.

"I'm here by choice. I want to 'be put through this.'" He said, using air quotes.

Her eyes searched his face, "what if I die."

"We're not even considering that a possibility right now."

"The odds aren't good."

"And you're a fighter, a healthy young adult. You've got the best of the odds."

"We promised a long time ago we'd be honest and realistic about our relationship."

"And realistically I couldn't live without you. That's the honest fuck truth, Bree, so I'd like to not talk about you dying."

Her heart stopped for a moment as she replied his words in her head. He stared at her for a moment in the long silence that followed. Several seconds later he cleared his throat and looked away, eyes shifting down to his shoes.

"Chicken Caesar wraps."

"What?"

"That's what's in the bag. They're your favorite."

It was irrational but tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded, "they are."

He glanced up at the sound of her voice, small and hoarse. "Hey now, no tears," he murmured, turning his body toward her, cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

"Sorry," she muttered, "I don't know what's going on with me."

He gave her a lopsided smile, "I can think of a few things."

She placed her hand over one of his and smiled slightly, "I love you."

He pressed his forehead to hers, "I love you, and that's why I'm not going to let you do this alone. I'm going to be here whether you want me or not, so get used to it."

"There's nothing I could do to make you leave?"

He smirked, "nope. You chose me, it's my job to make you regret that every day of your life."

She smiled before he leaned in to kiss her.

_The show must go on_

_the show must go on_

_inside my heart is breaking_

_my make-up may be flaking_

_but my smile still stays on_

_Whatever happens_

_I'll leave it all to chance_

Bree sat down in the plush rolling chair in her dad's office, holding her cell phone to her ear. Phil was in the kitchen with her mother, as the older woman busied herself baking cookies. Phil was joking with Angela, saying she was trying to help Cena become the new WWE Champion by fattening him up. Bree's mother would laugh it off with a slight blush, cursing her daughter mentally for telling Phil about her fancy for one John Cena.

Ben sat in one of the reading chairs in the office, watching his daughter as she spun the chair she was sitting in, waiting for the secretary to put her through to Vince McMahon.

"Breann?"

"Yes sir, it's me," her voice didn't hold it's usual bravado or vitality.

"You must have news."

"I do, and unfortunately, it's not good news."

"That's all right, its not your fault. But what is it?"

"I will be out long term. I have to do chemotherapy and then surgery, and then it's a lot of waiting to see if I go into remission or not."

"Months wise, are we saying close to a year?"

"If not more."

"That's...unfortunate, but it'll be okay. Expect your job to be waiting for you once you regain health. I wish you all the best Breann."

"Thank you Mr. McMahon. Um, how do you want me to make my exit on screen."

"This is a serious issue, so I'd rather not cover it up with a storyline. Would you mind just having us be honest about why you're leaving?"

"You mean tell the fans I have cancer?"

"Well, yes."

"I don't mind at all Vince."

"Okay. I don't expect you to fly out here, so I'll send a crew out to you so you can film a segment live on RAW this Monday. How does that sound?"

"That sounds good to me."

"Alright, then that's settled. Please, Breann, keep me informed on what's going on."

"Of course Mr. McMahon."

"Good, have a nice afternoon."

"You too."

She ended the phone call and stopped the spinning of her chair, setting the phone down on the desk.

"How'd it go?" Her father asked.

"Fine, he didn't fire me for being sick. He said my job would be waiting for me when I'm ready to come back."

Ben smiled, "well that's good."

"It is. And I'll be filming a segment for RAW to explain why I'm leaving on Monday."

Ben nodded and they were silent for a couple moments.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his eyes searching his daughter's face.

She placed a smile on her lips, "good, I haven't had any nausea or anything." She didn't add the _'yet'_ to that statement. Her father nodded even though they both knew it was only her first dose of chemo and her response wouldn't be all that rapid. Her answer wouldn't be the same after her second round. But for now he'd let her get away with only thinking about the present, for only responding about how she's feeling on the surface. He'd let her keep up that brave face for now, it seemed to be successfully in holding them all together so far. Ben was hoping it would continue to work.

The father and daughter walked out of the office and into the living room of the house. Bree stood and smiled, watching Phil as he teased her mother about something.

"I don't know if I've told you this before Breann, but I do approve of Phil. I wouldn't mind calling him my son either."

Bree smiled to herself, "maybe one day you will."

Ben just nodded before leaning in a kissing the top of her head before walking into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around his wife, who was busy mixing cookie dough in a large orange bowl. He kissed her cheek and Angela smiled.

Phil grinned as he watched the couple, they'd been together for thirty years now. He could see himself and Bree like that one day.

Before he'd had no doubt about it. But now, he found himself praying that she would get to see another year. Sure, they hadn't given her an expiration date, but the statistics were less than favorable for Bree. It had him worried, had him shaking on the inside, had his heart cracking at just the thought that she may not have as much time as they had once thought.

"Hey, stop worrying," Bree murmured, her fingertips smoothing the lines that had formed on his forehead.

He made a dry, scoffing sound in the back of his throat and smirked slightly as he turned to her, one of his arms sliding around her back.

"It's Saturday," he murmured.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "And?"

"I have to leave tomorrow."

Her face froze for a moment. She'd forgotten that Phil would have to return to the road, she'd forgotten that he could still work.

She swallowed, "right, yeah."

His fingers tucked her hair back, pushing it out of her eyes as he took her face in his hands. "I promise I'll be back as soon as I can be."

"Make sure you focus on your job. It's important, not just to you but to me, and to all your fans. Promise me you won't half-ass things and just go through the motions so you can get back to me faster." She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

He searched her eyes for a moment before nodding, knowing she had good reasoning, "I promise."

She smiled, relieved, "good."

_my soul is painted_

_like the wing of butterflies_

_fairytales of yesterday _

_will grow but never die_

_I can fly my friends_

Ben stepped out onto the porch into the warm summer breeze. Breann sat on the porch swing, Sammy curled up next to her as she off into the sky.

"Missing him already?"

She glanced up quickly at the sound of his voice. She shook her head quickly in defense, "n-no."

He smirked, knowing better. "He's a good man Bree."

She knew that was her father's way of saying that she couldn't have picked anyone better.

"He's pretty much the perfect match for you."

"We compliment each other." She agreed.

"Since you two got together, I always thought he'd be the one to take you away from me before I was ready."

She closed her eyes, holding them shut for a moment.

Phil was pessimistic.

Bree and her father were realistic.

Without words, without a doctor's diagnosis, they had already accepted it, they could feel it.

"Me too, daddy." She opened her eyes to stare out at the setting sun.

"Are you," he struggled over the words, "are you in pain?"

She shook her head, "no, I'm not. Not right now. Later, maybe."

"You're grandmother said she could feel it, that she knew it was there."

"I know, she told me, before she started going downhill. She told me she knew it was taking her this time." Bree swallowed back the tears, she'd cried enough for the week.

"If you...get that feeling. Let me know, okay? I-I can handle knowing."

"Phil won't be able to."

"And that's why you'll tell me."

Bree nodded and glanced at the flowers her mother had planted in the yard that past spring. They were blooming in the mild sunlight, insects buzzed around the yard in the late afternoon. A butterfly with pale yellow wings flitted past Bree, catching the attention of Sammy, whose green eyes followed the butterfly for a moment before falling closed again.

The brunette young woman smiled to herself, watching the butterfly as well. An Eastern Tiger Swallowtail.

Her grandma had a beautiful flower garden that always attracted all kinds of insects. Her grandma had not only loved flowers, but the butterflies that visited those flowers as well. She knew the names of all the different kinds, and she'd teach them to Bree when she was little. Bree's favorite had always been the Eastern Tiger Swallowtail.

She watched the butterfly flutter in a large spiral over the yard before disappearing over the line of trees that separated her parent's front yard and the neighbors.

Bree wished she could fly away like that butterfly.

But she couldn't, she had a lot of things to do still.

_the show must go on_

_the show must go on_

_I'll face it with a grin_

_I'm never giving in_

_on with the show_

_I'll top the bill I'll overkill_

_I have to find the will to carry on_

_on with the show_

_the show must go on_

Ben looked at his daughter, watching as she chewed her lip and fiddled with the curls in her hair.

"You ready for this?"

She looked up at him suddenly and smiled softly, "yeah, I just...it might be the last time the fans ever see me. I was just...thinking about that."  
It had been his little girl's dream, since she was little to be a professional wrestler. It hadn't been an easy decision for the family. Bree's mother had blamed Ben for getting their daughter into such a thing as professional wrestling. When Bree told Angela she wanted to be a wrestler herself and that she wasn't going to college, she was going to wrestling school, Angela almost had a nervous breakdown.

Eventually, Angela saw her daughter's passion for the industry and with his wife's consent they began to help Bree out any way they could.

The day she'd gotten her contract with the WWE had been the happiest he had ever seen his daughter. Even thought it was only a developmental contract, she was so positive about it. She'd been promised that Creative would work on a character for her and she'd start to interact with fans and an audience. She couldn't wait to start.

When she'd gotten pulled up to the main roster, she'd confessed to her father her fears. She was worried that she wouldn't be up to par with the other Divas, that she wasn't as pretty or statuesque as the other Divas. Ben had reassured her and told her that she wasn't just up to par with them, she was better than all of them combined.

Not long after that he started to hear mentions about 'Phil' during her phone calls home. A year into her career on the main roster she'd told her parents that she and Phil were together. She'd brought him home and—despite Phil's physical appearance—Ben and Angela had approved of him.

Two years later, Bree and Phil were still together, Ben and Angela still approve of their relationship. In all honesty, they loved Phil and knew he was meant for their daughter.

Bree sighed heavily and the producer that had been sent with the crew gave her a thumbs up. "You're live with Michael Cole and Jerry Lawler."

She nodded and fixed her eyes on the screen as Ben stepped out of the way to watch.

_[On Screen]_

_ "We are now joined by WWE Diva Kat via satellite from her hometown of Cairo, Missouri. It was announced earlier this afternoon that Kat had an announcement for the WWE Universe and now we will find out what this announcement is. Good evening Kat."_

_ "Hello Cole, Lawler," she winked at the screen as she greeted The King. _

_ "The WWE Universe has been all abuzz since the statement was released on . Can you tell us what's going on now." _

_ "Yes I can." She paused, taking a deep breath before a sad smile turned her mouth, "unfortunately I received the news a couple weeks back that I have Stage IV breast cancer. At the moment I'm receiving treatment for it, but it's very likely that I'll be gone from the WWE for a very long time." _

_ "Kat, I'm...I'm really sorry about this."_

_ "Hey, there's nothing you could've done. I just wanted to let the WWE Universe know what was going on, instead of just disappearing. The WWE has been amazing to me and Vince has assured me that the minute I'm healthy again I can be right back in that ring where I belong."_

_ "Well we wish you the best, and hope you have a speedy recovery." _

_ "Thank you." _

_ "Take care."_

_[Off screen]_

"That was great Bree. I'm really sorry about this, I hope I see you soon."

Bree smiled at the crew member that had spoken, "I hope so too."

The camera crew picked up their equipment and left soon after. Bree flopped down on the couch and Ben sat down in his recliner. Angela walked into the living room with a plate of cookies.

"Oh god Mom, I'm going to get so fat," Bree groaned, but smiled as she spoke.

"I can't help it. You know I bake twice as much when I'm worried."

Bree's smile faded, "I know."

Angela looked immediately apologetic for bringing it up, but before she could say anything, Bree's phone began to ring.

Bree picked up the device from where it had been sitting on the coffee table.

"I'm going to take this," she said, shaking the phone slightly in her hand before standing up and leaving the room, heading out onto the front porch.

"Hey," she answered, a smile softening her features.

"Hey, I saw your segment."

"Well it was on national TV."

"Don't be a smartass, I was just calling to make sure you're okay."  
"I'm good, Phil."

He was silent for a moment, "good, I...I'll be gone for the next week. But I'll be heading back after Monday Night RAW next week."

"Like I said, don't need to rush back. I'm not doing anything. Just sitting here, eating my mom's baked goods, getting fat."

"If you need me, you will call, right?"

"Of course."  
"Okay."

She chewed her lip, "hey Phil?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it's still like two weeks away, but, would you like to come with me to my next chemo session?"

"Of course I'll go with you." He chuckled, "I would've showed up there anyways."

"True," she shrugged, "I love you."  
"I love you."

"Good," she smirked, "now go kick ass, I'll be watching your match."

_So tired I couldn't even sleep_

_so many secrets I couldn't keep_

_promised myself I wouldn't weep_

_one more promise I couldn't keep_

_runaway train never going back_

_wrong way on a one way track _

_seems like I should be getting somewhere_

_somehow I'm neither here nor there_

"I won't be in till late," Phil murmured into the phone, "I'll catch a cab to your parent's house."  
"You remember where the spare key is hidden, right?"

"Yep, under the green flower pot."

Bree smiled softly, "good," she sighed, "I can't wait to see you."

"Mmm and I can't wait to see you."

"Your match was really good last night," she said.

"Thanks," there was a pause, "hey, they're calling my flight, I gotta go. When you wake up in the morning, I'll be there."

"I can't wait," she said, "I love you."

"I love you too."  
Bree couldn't help the smile that curled her lips. She'd missed Phil so much while he had been on the road and she couldn't wait for him to be back.

Over the past week she had been trying really hard to get a hold of herself. She'd promised herself several, various things. Like, she wouldn't cry anymore. She'd cried enough over herself, over her condition. She needed to be strong now in order to make it through her treatment and get healthy again.

She laid in bed in her parent's guest bedroom. It had once been her childhood bedroom, but the hot pink walls had been painted over and the zebra print sheets replaced. Her sports trophies for soccer and softball were still on the bookshelf in the corner and several pictures were still tacked to the wall.

A sigh left her lips heavily, there would be no sleep, she knew it. She wondered if this is what Phil felt like when he couldn't sleep. So tired that you're incurably restless and there's nothing you can really do about it.

Bree sat up, pushing herself back against the headboard. She reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp, opened up the nightstand drawer, and retrieved her copy of Huck Finn. She flipped it open, adjusting her position so the light hit the pages so she had enough light to read by and then she began to let her eyes slide over the words, and drink in the familiarity of them.

She read for hours until she heard the sound she was waiting for. A car pulled up outside the house. She marked her place and glanced at the alarm clock. _3:00 _it read. She shoved Huck Finn back into it's drawer, flicked off the lamp and then shoved her feet into her favorite fuzzy slippers before quickly opening the guest bedroom door and slipping down the hall to the front room.

She threw open the front door as the taxi drove away, leaving Phil standing on the sidewalk with his suitcase.

Suddenly, Bree's feet were moving quickly, carrying her across the front lawn and into Phil's arms.

Her legs wrapped around his waste as he caught her and used her momentum to spin them around slowly. He buried his face in her hair and she tucked her head into his neck, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Then Phil pulled back slightly and Bree's hands were on his face, pulling him back to her in a ferocious kiss that made his knees feel weak.

They were breathing heavily when the kiss broke and Phil rested his forehead against her's his nose sliding against her own. "I don't think you missed me," he joked sarcastically.

"Nope," she breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath, "not at all." She cracked a smile as she looked down at him.

He leaned forward and she dropped her legs from his waist, her feet touching the ground. She quickly pulled her foot back as it touched the cold cement with a yelp.

"Where'd my slipper go?" She asked, trying to look around her while standing on one foot.

He couldn't help but laugh at her. His hand slid around to the back of her head, kissing her again. Her eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected kiss but she returned it, eyelashes to cheeks.

"You're so cute," he muttered against her mouth, relishing her taste which he had missed the nine days he'd been gone.

"Thanks, but seriously, where's my slipper?" She asked, leaned back, keeping her lips out of his reach. He pouted momentarily before looking over her shoulder.

"Found it, stay here," he said, squeezing her shoulder before walking over and retrieving the slipper from the lawn. He returned to where she was standing and shook the slipper slightly to show her head had it, "must have fallen off in your mad dash."

She just raised her eyebrows at him and watched as he got down on one knee and reached out, picking up her foot delicately in one hand. His fingers slid over the skin smoothly, thumb caressing her ankle before he placed the slipper back on her foot. With a small smile he leaned in and kissed the side of her knee before setting her foot down and standing up.

"I'm exhausted, let's go to bed," he suggested, offering her his arm as she picked up his suitcase with his other hand. She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow from below and walked with him back inside.

"Stay here," he said once they were inside the house. She just looked at him, confused, eyebrows arched as she picked up his suitcase and carried it down the hall to the bedroom.

He returned and Bree opened her mouth to ask him what he was up to when he stooped slightly and scooped her up into his arms. She let out an unattractive shocked sound before chuckling.

"Shh, you'll wake your parents," he whispered in her ear, letting his breath linger for a moment, causing a chill to run down her spine.

He proceeded to carry her to their room down the hall and he pushed open the door with his foot and walked over to the bed, setting her down gently. He went back to the door, closing it before sliding his shirt off over his head. He then kicked him shorts off.

"I can feel you staring at my ass." He commented.

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to mute her laughter. It only helped slightly.

"You think my ass is funny?" He asked, kneeling over her on the edge of the bed.

"It's hilarious," she said.

He sent her a mock glare before leaned in, kissing her soundly. His hands ghosted down her sides.

"Mmmm, babe, my parents are in the other room," she muttered, turning her lips away from his. He wasn't deterred, instead he kissed her cheek and then moved down to her neck, weaving a hot trail down her neck. Her back arched and she closed her eyes. "I thought you were tired," she whispered.

He pressed his forehead against her collarbone, "I am, but I missed you." He lifted his head to look up at her, "I missed looking at you," his eyes locked with hers, "hearing you laugh," his fingertips brushed her sides, tickling her and causing her to laugh, "I missed feeling you," those same hands slide back up her torso slowly, purposefully feeling the contours of her body, "and I missed kissing you," he leaned in and, instead of kissing her mouth like she expected, kissed her forehead.

"I love you, and I missed you so much," she whispered, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He smiled softly at her, reaching behind his neck, taking her hand in his and linking their fingers together. "I love you Bree."

/

Phil hummed to himself as he poured a cup of coffee for Bree. He fixed it the way she liked it before picking up the mug and walking into the living room. His eyebrows furrowed as he found the room empty.

"Bree?" He called out, but he didn't receive an answer. He set the cup of coffee down and then walked down the hallway, "Bree?" He still didn't receive an answer. He pushed the door to the guest bedroom open and stepped inside. She wasn't in there either.

He retreated back out into the hall and glanced around. That's when he saw that the guest bathroom door was slightly open and the lights were on inside the room.

Phil pushed open the door and Bree's head snapped toward his direction, her eyes wide as the electric razor she had been holding fell from her hand and clattered against the tiled floor.

His eyes fixated on the buzzing razor for a moment before he lifted his gaze to stare at her.

She swallowed and for a moment he thought maybe she wouldn't say anything and just act like he hadn't seen anything but then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin slightly.

Phil wasn't sure what he should say and she didn't offer any words as she leaned over and picked up the razor.

She turned back to the mirror, lifting the razor to her hairline.

"What are you doing?" He asked, taking a step forward.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek before lowering the razor, "what does it look like?" she asked, glancing over at him. Her smart remark only made his own sarcastic defenses to snap up.

"Strangling a puppy. Seriously Bree," he placed his hands on his hips. Her eyebrow just jumped slightly on her brow.

"I'm going to lose it anyway."

"So why just cut it off now?"

"To get it over with."

"No."

She sighed, setting the razor down and stared at her reflection. "I haven't had short hair since the third grade. And even then, it wasn't my choice. My brother got gum stuck in my hair and my mom had to chop it off above my chin. I hated it and it took forever for it to grow back out." She swallowed, "I'd rather it be my choice then to just have it get taken away. Watching my hair fall out will be traumatic and a lot harder for me. I'd rather do it myself."

Phil stared at her a moment and then he nodded. He held out his hand, "let me do it."

She looked up at him in surprise, "really?" she sounded incredulous.

He nodded toward his hand and she hesitantly picked up the electric razor and placed it in his hand.

He moved behind her and reached around her, he placed the razor down for a moment so that he could use both hands to sweep her hair back over her shoulder. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss her exposed neck, feeling her shiver slightly. He looked up to see her reflection in the mirror, eyes closed, teeth biting down on her lip.

Pulling back slowly he picked the razor back up and turned it on. Ever so slowly he moved the razor to the front of her scalp. Bree's eyes opened and watched him. Some small part of him hoped she'd stop him as he set the razor close to her scalp. She didn't say anything as he began to pull back, feeling the blades catch on her hair and slice the soft strands close to their roots.

He felt a shuddering breath escape Bree as he lifted the razor away and a section of her hair fell onto the counter. A strangled sound left her throat as she stared at the strand.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.

She shook her head, biting down on her lip to try and keep her from crying. "Keep going," she whispered.

He nodded and moved the razor again, shearing off another section and another and another until it was all gone. Her hair lay in several clumped piles on the floor, dark locks that wouldn't grow back for at least a few months. Bree swallowed, her eyes had been closed since that first piece of her hair was shaved off.

"Hey," Phil's hands squeezed her shoulders, his lips against her ears, "open your eyes."

Slowly, hesitantly she let her eyelids open. Her eyes met Phil's through their reflection in the mirror.

He smiled softly at her, "there she is."

Her face crumbled for a moment at his words and his tone and then her reflection. He turned her around and framed her face with his hands. He leaned in, kissing her forehead before his fingers slid along her bald scalp.

The tears slid down her cheeks now, unabashed. She leaned against Phil and he wrapped his arms around her shoulder, holding her to him, one hand on the back of her head. He kissed her temple over and over, breathing deeply to keep himself from losing against the welling emotions inside him. She needed him to be strong in this moment, and no matter how he felt, he'd be strong for her.

They stood there, wrapped up in each others arms for a long while, even after Bree's tears subsided.

She hated that she'd broken her promise not to cry anymore, but she felt so much better now that she had. She pulled away from Phil, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

"I made you coffee," he said softly, watching her as she stared at the mirror.

"You did?" she asked, looking at him with a small smile.

"Yeah, it's probably cold now though. I'll go warm it up and bring it to you."

"Okay."

He turned to leave.

"Phil?"

"Yeah?" He asked, looking back at her.

"Thank you."

He just smiled in reply, there were no thank yous needed.

After Phil had left the bathroom Bree walked back into the bedroom, retrieving her cell phone from the bedside table. She padded back into the bathroom and unlocked her phone, turning on her cell's camera. Taking a deep breath she turned her cell phone and took a picture of herself, making sure her bald head was clearly visible.

She let out a breath as she opened up her twitter account and posted the picture with the caption:

_"Not a storyline guys. It's the real shit." _

_can you help me remember how to smile_

_make it somehow all seem worthwhile_

_how on earth did I get so jaded_

_life's mystery seems so faded_

_I can go where no else can go_

_I know what no one else knows_

_here I am just drownin' in the rain_

_with a ticket for a runaway train_

Phil smiled as a Journey song came on Bree's iPod which they were sharing at the moment. They sat together in the living room's window seat, Bree between his legs leaning back against his chest. One of his legs was propped up, bent at the knee, and he was using it as a prop for his arm which held his comic book which he was reading from. Bree had her copy of Huck Finn open on her lap, intently reading the words she'd read a million times before.

Phil wasn't so absorbed in his reading, he instead watched Bree, as random thoughts rolled into and out of his brain.

Suddenly an idea struck him. He leaned closer to her, his mouth by her ear which didn't have a earbud lodged inside. "Will you go with me?"

Confused she leaned away to turn and look at him, in the process tugging out the earphone which they had been sharing. "What?" she was laughing a little, but confused by his question.

"Will you go with me?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, "where?"

"Anywhere," he replied, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms behind his head.

Her lips parted and slowly lifted into a smile, "I'll go."

Phil smiled.

/

Florida in late July was humid. The beaches were crowded but enjoyable.

Bree smiled even as she adjusted the baseball cap on her had which Phil had let her borrow. They were lying together on a towel on the beach, the sun sliding in between the clouds which hung low and heavy in the sky.

When she'd suggested Florida he'd been a little surprised. Bree didn't like water, didn't like the wide open ocean, but the first place out of her mouth when he asked if she had any ideas where to go, was Florida. He didn't dare so no so he just nodded and said they were going to Florida. They'd spend the rest of the week there until Sunday morning, when Phil would fly back out to wherever RAW was and then be back for Wednesday morning—Bree's second chemotherapy session.

But for now they laid together, his head resting on her stomach as she lay perpendicular to him. She was leaned up against a large boulder they'd found at an upper corner of a beach, away from the crowded masses of families and small children that would stare at a bald woman.

Her fingers slid through his hair, massaging his scalp as she read her book and listened to the crashing of the waves on the shore. He was content to just lay there and watch her reading.

"You're staring," she spoke, not taking her eyes away from her book.

"Hmm, I had no idea."

She rolled her eyes at that and then all of a sudden started blinking. She lifted her eyes, tilting her head back she stared up at the sky and a large smile lit up her face.

"It's raining," she whispered.

Phil closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He would never understand her fascination with rain.

He sat up and started collecting there things. Her hand shot out quickly, "what are you doing?"

"Getting ready to leave."

"No." Her small was childlike in its happiness.

Phil glanced around, the families and other couples at the beach were starting to pack up and leave.

He looked back at Bree and she raised her eyebrows.

"What's a little rain gonna hurt?" She asked, throwing her book aside before getting to her feet and walking off, her feet leaving impressions in the sand as the rain began to fall harder.

He watched her for a moment as she held her arms out and spun around slowly. A sudden wind sprung up and her hands went to her head to hold her hat on but her smile stayed on.

"Bree," he said, sounded exasperated.

She just turned to face him and held out her hand, "dance with me?"

It was moments like that where you could see Bree clearly. Her brown eyes were lit up as she smiled brightly at him, her small hand outstretched her bare toes wiggling in the same. He could see her, and he loved what he could see.

He shrugged, "why not?"

He took her hand, pulling it around his neck while his arms wrapped around her waist and he held her close to him. They stepped slowly, swaying in a circle. No music but the sound of the waves and the pouring rain.

"I don't know how, but you make everything worthwhile," Bree whispered against his neck.

Phil smiled to himself, having no words to respond to that. He didn't have an answer either.

Suddenly thunder crashed loudly, sounding as if it was just above them. They both looked up at the sky and then their gazes moved once more as lightning lit up the gloomy sky, touching down on a beach just up the shoreline from the beach they were own.

Phil's eyes widened, "shit!"

Bree laughed as they suddenly broke apart and grabbed up their stuff. He couldn't help it, he started laughing too as the rain pounded down on them. Bree tried to put her flip flops on but she was in such a hurry and there was too much sand she couldn't do it.

Phil laughed at her, hunching over before her, "hop on," he said.

She jumped on to his back, wrapping her legs around his waist picking up her flip flops as she did so. "Go!" she yelled, pointing ahead of them.

He laughed, beginning to jog to where their rental car was parked.

Bree couldn't stop laughing, even as thunder and lightning crashed again. She gasped suddenly as the wind whipped by her and sent her sun hat flying off her head. She turned to watch it fly away. She lifted on hand, trying to cover her head, using her other arm to keep a hold onto Phil.

He slowed down and opened the backseat door. Bree dropped off of his back as he threw their bags into the trunk and then he slid into the backseat with her. He turned to face her and found her curled up on the other seat, knees pulled to her chest, hands over her head.

"My hat flew away," she whispered, not meeting his eyes. He saw the glassiness of unshed tears in her eyes.

"Hey, come here," he murmured, motioning for her to come closer with a roll of his wrists. She chewed her lips, looking up at him after a moment of hesitance.

He knew she wouldn't voice her insecurities out loud, but he could guess what they were.

When she didn't move he did, sliding closer to her, leaning in to kiss her forehead before dipping down and sealing his lips against hers. She kissed him back and slowly her hands fell from covering her head and instead brushed against the stubble on his cheeks.

His nose slid along hers as he looked up at her through his lashes. She had no choice but to look back at him. "You're beautiful Breann."

He left no room for argument as he kissed her into silence until she nodded in agreement.

She nodded because she knew that if she did he would let it go.

He wouldn't understand the emptiness she was feeling on the inside, he wouldn't understand the foreboding feeling in her chest. She'd let him have this happiness, this victory this time because she knew it would keep him going for at least a little while, as she still ambled along a road that seemed to lead to nowhere.

_Seems like I should be getting somewhere_

_somehow I'm neither here nor there_


	5. Wake Me Up When September Ends

_**So, here's the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it. I'm really trying to work on updates when I can, but it slow going. Luckily, I'm really inspired and motivated with this fic. **_

_**Thanks to **Pinayprincesa, nic-002001, DeathDaisy, nadinesmith12345, & AngelsDestiny22 **for the great reviews. I always reread them every time I open the chapter to write some more and they really keep me going. So thank you SO much :) **_

_**Songs Used In This Chapter (In Order): I'm Gonna Love You Through It by Martina McBride, Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin, Tough by Craig Morgan, No Rain by Blind Melon, Daylight by Ron Pope, Rain When I Die by Alice In Chains, Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel**_

_**PS- sorry for any mistakes/grammatical errors. I wanted to post this asap! And I'm like, dead tired today so...yeah. Let me know if there's anything terribly annoying and I will fix it**_

_***10/04/2012—Edited some things in this chapter.**_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter V: Wake Me Up When September Ends**_

_When you're weak, I'll be strong_

_When you let go, I'll hold on_

_when you need to cry, I swear that I'll be there to dry your eyes_

_when you feel lost and scared to death,_

_like you can't take one more step_

_just take my hand, together we can do it_

_I'm gonna love you through it._

Phil watched Bree out of the corner of his eye, observing her as she calmly got herself ready. She'd wrapped a scarf around her head and the end of it hung over her shoulder as she stood in the kitchen making them sandwiches.

She'd insisted she do it herself, and he didn't know why. It's not like he thought she wasn't capable of making them lunch, but he didn't question her, and he didn't argue with her about it either.

He didn't want to say he was walking on eggshells around her, but he certainly wasn't being as sarcastic and blunt as he normally would be.

He didn't want her for one second to think that he wasn't there for her one hundred percent. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, or bruise her ego, or anything that would even upset her in the slightest way.

Mostly, it was because he didn't want to see her crying anymore.

It went from him seeing her cry twice in all the years he's known her to seeing her cry at least five times in the past week.

An emotional Bree was something he was not used to.

And she wasn't used to an emotional Phil.

It was why she didn't let him make lunch, he was so touchy about everything, he'd probably read into it too much if she asked him to make the sandwiches. He'd probably think she was dying or something. He'd overreact.

She'd never seen Phil cry, not once. Now she'd seen him cry a couple times and it killed her to see him like that.

As she slid the sandwiches into a brown paper bag along with two apples she glanced up to see Phil watching her with lidded eyes and a lack of a smile.

"Ready to go?" she asked, twisting the opening of the paper bag closed.

He snapped to attention, eyes losing their vacancy, and he nodded at her. "Yeah, let's go."

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, but it wasn't as bad as last time. Over the past couple days, the days when Phil had been on the road, she'd let herself do a lot of thinking. She did a lot of deep breathing and a lot of wondering and a lot of accepting.

She was certain everyone would assume that accepting her condition would be the hardest part, but it wasn't. It was actually not as hard as she thought it'd be. But it was hard to be in denial about something when everything three weeks you were going to be receiving treatment for it and every time you looked at your reflection in the mirror you were reminded you lost your hair.

"You want me to drive?" Phil asked as she locked up the front door. Bree glanced over at him and nodded once, "yeah, sure."

He didn't know why, but his mission during their drive to the hospital was to make her laugh.

He accomplished that by singing along to Taylor Swift in an annoying nasally voice that he knew cracked Bree up.

When he finally parked in a stall, Bree was clutching her stomach, laughing, tears leaking out of the corner of her eye. Phil was laughing with her, his cheeks hurting from smiling so widely while laughing.

They both quieted after several more moments of laughter that seemed to release them from the dreary reality they lived in. Bree turned to face him, resting her temple against the back of the seat, her smile was soft.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" He asked, turning his head to look at her, his hazel eyes surveying her.

"For making me laugh when I feel like it's impossible to."

He leaned across the middle console of the car and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "any time Bree."

With that, they got out of the car and walked, hand in hand, into the oncology wing of the hospital.

Bree had only been there once before, but already she knew the way by heart.

Debra, the nurse from last time, was there again. She beamed brightly at the sight of Breann, "ah you brought company this time. Good." She held her hand out, "I'm Debra."  
Phil took the nurses hand, "Phil," he nodded toward Bree, "her boyfriend."

Debra's head tilted to the side slightly, "it's always great to see couples like you supporting each other. Now come on, we've got a seat open for you right over here." Debra led them over to one of the large comfy chairs they had set up around the room for the patients, with the IV-like stand next to them.

"I'll be right back with your dosage," Debra said, patting Bree's hand as the younger woman sat down. Phil pulled up a chair next to her.

"Well, she's...chipper."

Bree was staring at the wall and after a moment she looked at Phil, "I guess she has to be, every day she works with people who are either sick or dying. I'd have to force myself to be happy too."

Phil was silent and before he could say anything, Debra was back and hooking up the needed equipment.

"How's your morning been so far?" Debra asked, trying to distract Bree as she slid her hand under Bree's shirt, finding the port and the tubing, attaching the tube for the chemo to the port and then removing her hand once more.

Bree decided not to take any notice of it, "it's okay. I made lunch."

"Took my advice this time, I see."

"Yeah, I was starving after last time."  
Debra nodded, "okay, I'll check on you in a bit. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you." Bree said. Debra just sent the girl a wink before turning and returning to the nurse's station.

Bree stared down at what she could see of her chest, her eyes following the clear tube to the bag of chemicals, worrying her lip between her teeth.

She glanced up slightly when Phil's fingers slid into her palm and spread out, resting between her own fingers, curling to hold her hand in his. He sent her a tender smile where her eyes met his.

They remained sitting like that for the rest of the session, only letting go of each others hand when they decided to eat their lunch. Once they were done Phil threw away their trash and then returned to his seat, and Bree slid her hand back into his.

Then suddenly, the nausea hit and her body lurched. Phil reacted immediately, picking up the trash can that was never far away and held it in front of her. She gripped it tightly with her hands as Phil stroked her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, this is why she didn't want people to come with her.

She sat back and set the trashcan down, "I think I'm okay now."

Phil just nodded, standing to get some paper towels and he cleaned her face tenderly before sitting back down beside her, pulling his chair even closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder.

Bree was beginning to feel tired, slipping off into unconsciousness for a few seconds at a time.

Her eyes snapped open again, as she feebly tried to fight off sleep.

With his free hand, Phil brushed his fingers along her temple and she opened her eyes slightly, looking at him tiredly.

"If you're tired, sleep," he murmured.

She nodded, "mmkay."

He smiled softly as she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.

He kissed her cheek, and whispered "I love you" into her ear.

/

Her chemo had been uneventful and she sat back at her parent's home in the guest bedroom. Phil was out at the gym and her parent's were dining out together.

Truthfully, Bree had encouraged everyone to leave because she honestly didn't want anyone around when she made this phone call.

Her foot tapped against the wooden frame of the bed as the phone rang and she waited for the receiver to pick up.

"Hello?"

Barbie sounded groggy and it was then that Bree remembered the time difference.

"Shit Barbs, I forgot. You were probably sleeping, huh?"

"Bree? Oh my god, how are you?"

Breann smiled to herself slightly, "I'm doing okay."

She could practically hear Barbie's eye roll, "now the honest answer."

"It sucks but what can I do?"

"I heard you started chemo, how is that going?"

"I had my second round today. I haven't gotten any of the super bad side effects yet."

"Yet." Barbie muttered.

"Yeah, I know. Nurses told me it'll start having an effect now that it's the second time."

"I, uh, I saw the picture on Twitter."

"Oh."

Bree realized afterward that the picture she posted on the internet probably wasn't the greatest thing to do. It had been a terrible way for all of her friends to find out that she'd started chemo and shaved her head. She hadn't thought about all the repercussions when she posted the picture, she'd just acted. Impulsively. She wasn't an impulsive person.

Well maybe she was, and it was something she'd always disliked about herself.

"I'm sorry about that."  
"About shaving your head?" Again, Bree could imagine Barbie arching a blond brow at her. God she missed her friends.

"No, that you had to find out that way."

"Well, I must say, you have a nicely shaped dome."  
Bree laughed, leave it to Barbie.

"God, I'm glad this conversation is going well."  
"You thought it wasn't going to go well?"

"I thought we'd both be bawling our eyes out. I mean, after your message..." Bree trailed off.

Barbie was silent for a moment, before sighing, "I hadn't heard from you then. I didn't know how you were taking things, so I was worried. Now, I'm talking to you, I can hear for myself that you're alright—it'd be nice if I could see it—but a phone call will do for now."

"So, no need to waste our water resources."

"Nope, not right now."

"Hopefully, never."

"Yeah...hopefully," Barbie murmured.

They were silent for a moment until Bree spoke, "hey, if you notice Phil...acting strangely will you let me know."  
"Yeah, of course. If you don't mind me asking, why?"

Bree shrugged and sighed, "I just...Phil and I both put on brave faces for each other and he's trying really hard to be strong for me right now. My instincts are telling me to be strong for him."

"And you're both just keeping everything all bottled up inside."

"Yeah," the word escaped Bree with a exhalation of air.

"If he starts shutting himself off I'll let you know."  
"And get him out of his shell if he does that."  
"Will do Bree. Thank you for calling back after...three weeks."

Bree laughed, "I know, I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah, yeah, whateva."

_And when this road gets too long_

_I'll be the rock you lean on_

_just take my hand, together we can do it_

I'm gonna love you through it

Bree curled in on herself, shrinking on the window seat, fingertips sliding along her bald scalp as her eyes screwed shut. She tried to breathe deeply, hoping that would settle her body as her stomach roiled and her skin quaked in a cold sweat. She exhaled out her nose, letting out a whimper as her body lurched upward.

The young woman quickly turned to the large trashcan that was next to the window seat, bracing her hands on the plastic sides as her ribcage heaved upwards.

By that time, her stomach was empty of any contents and all that was left was the stinging bile that founds itself working up the opposite direction it should be headed.

Angela stood, helpless, in the living room doorway, watching her daughter. She'd tried to comfort her daughter, rub her back soothingly, but Bree had told her she was fine and to just go, mumbling something about how she didn't need to see this.

But Angela had seen much worse. She was a mother for god's sake. It wasn't the first time she saw Bree get sick to her stomach, was the first time that she babied her daughter while she was sick. The difference was that now, Breann was a grown woman, an independent one at that. She didn't want anyone fussing over her and she certainly didn't want anyone to see her in this weakened, pitiful, sickly state.

Bree squeezed her eyes shut again as she tried to swallow back the nausea, knowing nothing would be coming up. The feeling was terrible, worse than she'd expected.

She tried to mentally prepare herself, expecting the worst case scenario in her mind, not setting high expectations, not trusting in her physical strength.

She had tried so hard to be prepared but nothing she'd expected, thought, heard or read could have prepared her for the body aches, the nausea, the loss of appetite, the zombie-like feeling she was plagued with every moment where she neither felt alive nor dead. She just sat in her window seat, immersed in pain and the uncomfortable aching of sickness, hot and cold all at the same time, not sure whether she wanted to cocoon herself in a blanket or throw every layer of covering off, not sure if she was hungry or if it was just the nausea tricking her into trying to digest something so it could cause more chaos inside of her.

She let out a small whimper as a shrill ringing began and it didn't stop for at least thirty seconds and it was too much for her pounding skull and aching limbs. She wanted it to stop, just to all stop. She wanted the pain to be over with, wanted the sickness to go away, wanted the ringing to quiet.

"Hello?"

She recognized her mother's voice without opening her eyes. Fatigue pulled at the edges of her consciousness, folding her awareness inward and into nothingness.

Angela's eyes never left her daughter, the hopeless feeling still lodged deep in her chest.

"How is she?" Phil was on the other end of the line.

Angela didn't respond for a moment, her gaze averting, it hurt to look at her daughter these days. She could barely bring herself to talk to her daughter, not that she received much of a response.

"Not well, I'm afraid. She won't even let me help her," Angela couldn't help let the complaint slip, hoping Phil would sympathize with her. Between Bree's reluctance to let anyone assist her and Angela's fear of watching her daughter wither away, Bree had effectively been isolated and it seemed there was nothing Angela could do about it. She'd never been good at facing her fears, she'd always been quiet, shy, didn't take too many risks in life. Her daughter was the exact opposite, and that had been why they clashed at times while Bree was growing up. It led to Bree being closest with her father.

Ben had been helping as best he could, but Bree pushed even him away too.

Angela knew they needed Phil back here. But he had his career to think about, and Angela knew Bree's wishes for him to not give everything up just because she was sick, so Angela would not ask Phil to return home before he rightfully could.

Phil, sitting in his locker room, ran a hand over his head, his fingers catching in the strands of his hair which were quickly drying after his shower. He gripped his hair at the roots for a moment before relaxing his fingers, withdrawing them slowly from his hair, watching himself in the mirror as strands curled around his fingertips, being pulled straight.

He smoothed the hair down, playing with his lip ring as an idea struck him.

"She's sleeping now, though." Angela sighed, and Phil returned his mind to the phone conversation. "But don't worry yourself sick over it, she'll be fine, its just the chemo."

The older woman was partially trying to convince herself that her daughter was just feeling miserably because of the chemotherapy and not a mix of the chemo and the disease she was suffering from. Angela didn't want Bree to feel any pain from the cancer. Or the chemo. She didn't want her daughter to feel any pain at all, but there was nothing she could do when chemo was Breann's only option for a partial cure.

It was a bittersweet compromise, go into remission, but first you must endure you body getting killed by chemicals from the inside out.

"I'll be back soon." Phil murmured, trying not to focus on the mental image of Bree, weak and feeble, curled up in a ball, in a tortuous sleep, without him by her side.

"I'm sure she'll be happy about that."

"Thank you for watching over her."

"Why wouldn't I? I'm her mother, its what I'm supposed to do."

Supposed to do, not what she _wanted _to do. She was a coward and she would admit that to herself and allow everyone else to believe she's being the mother of the year.

This disease would kill everything. Her mother-in-law, her daughter, her self-image, her husband's sanity, her family's happiness, Phil's future. It would tear them limb from limb without any remorse.

Angela wondered if she was the only one who realized that.

_And I will find the enemy within_

_Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin_

_dear agony_

_just let go of me_

_suffer slowly_

_is this the way its gotta be_

_dear agony_

They were in the same time zone that night; neither of them could sleep.

Bree curled up on her side, the turmoil in her body made it impossible for her to close her eyes and drift off. The pain would just jolt her awake, or the nausea would.

Phil ran a hand over his face as he continued to talk to her, his voice low and soothing as he told her about his day, Creative's plans for his heel turn, some silly prank Matt pulled in the locker room on Cena. He was doing all he could to distract her from the horribleness she felt.

"And I told him he really shouldn't steal John's jorts but-"

"Phil?"

He stopped at her soft tone.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly and he swallowed.

"I feel like I'm dying." She whispered, one hand curling around her stomach, the other cradling the phone to her ear.

"But you're not." Phil said back, surprised by the fervent insistence in his voice. He sounded like he believed his words. He had to believe that she wasn't dying. It was what was keeping him going.

Bree nodded silently.

"Thank you for staying on the phone with me," she murmured.

"Mm, I love you Bree," Phil closed his eyes. "Now tell me about your day."

So she did, letting herself drift away from the pain and the thoughts of dying but eventually, when a small silence fell between them, the thoughts came creeping back.

"Phil, it hurts," her voice was a whimper.

He tensed and didn't know what to say. There were no words that could take away her pain, he wasn't there so he could hold her.

He closed his eyes tightly.

"I-it's like...I can feel it, I know its there," she murmured, turning her face into Phil's pillow and inhaling, wishing he was there. His presence was slowly fading from the sheets because he'd been gone for over a week. "I'm tired of feeling like this Phil."

"I know babe, and I'm so sorry you feel like this," he murmured. Those were the only words he could come up with, his brain seemed dead in the situation, unable to produce anything of value or help.

"I don't," she sucked in a deep breath, "I don't understand why it happened to me."

"I don't understand why either Bree. But if I could, I would take your place in a heartbeat."

"No, I would never want anyone to feel like this. It's terrible, worse than that. There's not even a word to describe it."

Phil felt the tears prick his eyes, he couldn't even imagine the pain. He'd had his fair share of broken bones and concussions but he'd never felt the low growl of chemicals in your veins, killing off the illness that was destroying your body while at the same time doing as much damage as it did good.

He sucked in a deep breath, "If I was there with you right now, I'd wrap my arms around you, and kiss your shoulder, right where your tattoo is. And I'd whispered over and over again that I love you and that things will get better because we have each other and we have your parents and all of our friends and we'll make it. You'll make it through this, okay? Don't give up on me, ever. Promise me you won't give up on me."

"I promise," her voice was small, a tiny fraction of its normal volume as she choked on the emotions that welled up inside of her at Phil's words.

"I'll stay on the phone till you fall asleep," he murmured.

"Okay," she mumbled, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath. She tugged the blankets up to her chin. "I love you Phil."

"I love you too sweetheart."

/

"Honey, Phil's back!" Angela called from the entrance hallway instead of going into the living room to inform her daughter of her boyfriend's arrival.

Angela looked back at Phil, "she's in the living room," she said before disappearing back into the kitchen where a batch of cookies was just about ready to come out of the oven.

Phil watched Angela's form disappear into the kitchen with furrowed brows. His teeth tugged on his lip ring as she shrugged Angela's attitude off and set his suitcase down. He walked into the living room and Bree lifted her head from where it leaned on the window to look at him.

"Hey there sugarplum," he said, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he tried not to show his concern at her appearance. He hadn't seen her since right after her second chemo session, about two weeks ago now.

She was curled up on the window seat, knees bent and folded to the side, arms crossed over her stomach, her favorite blanket—made by her grandma—pulled tightly around her, fuzzy slippers on her feet. What struck Phil was her pale, sunken face. Her usually vibrant eyes and skin were dull and lackluster. Her arms were skinny and frail looking, he couldn't make out the rest of her body under the blanket but he assumed the rest of her looked as thin and malnourished as her arms and face did.

Her brown eyes were void of her usual dark eyeliner, her usually two sets of earrings were not in her ears, her lips were chapped and raw looking, dark circles formed under her lids. Her eyelashes were sparse and not their normal dark color and her eyebrows were missing small patches of hair.

He took a deep breath as he approached her, and knelt down next to the window seat, taking her hand into his as he leaned in to kiss her on the lips.

She turned away, "I'm gross."  
He shrugged, "I know, especially when you have morning breath, but I still kiss you then."

She turned her face back to look at him and she froze momentarily, eyes widening.

Her hand reached out, brushing his forehead, skimming her fingertips at his hairline.

"Y-your hair?"

Phil shrugged, "I figured we could wear matching scarves and hats and rock the bald look together."

He saw the tears well up in her brown eyes, but she didn't let them fall, instead she let out a broken laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Her fingers slid over his buzzed hair, "you didn't have to do that."

"But I wanted to. I told you, I'm here and I'm trying to understand what you're going through so I know what to do. It's really hard, and it's confusing and it's frustrating, but I'm going to try because you're trying to be strong for me."

She smiled sadly at him, her fingertips trailing down to his cheek before she brushed her knuckles along his jaw line. "It looks good, I'll still miss your hair, but I like it."

He grinned at her slightly, hand cupping her jaw as he leaned in to press a sweet kiss to her lips despite her efforts to try and dodge it. He didn't care what she looked like, or what she thought about herself, she would always be beautiful to him—as cheesy and cliché as that sounded.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he ran his fingers over her scalp where her long brown hair should be, and she did the same to him, their eyes locking as they knew this would get worse before it got better, but they could make it through.

Together.

/

"I can stay, y'know," Phil said as he stood on the front porch, Bree's hands in his as they faced each other.

She just shook her head, "you have a lot to do, I know you've been putting off that signing. Vince called at least three times while you were here."  
"You heard that?"

"I think the whole neighborhood could hear 'Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the goddamn chairman of the board, demand you go to the goddamn signing whether your punk-ass wants to or not.'" Bree smirked as she quoted the words that Mr. McMahon had shouted at Phil when the younger man had plainly stated his disinterest in going.

"I'll be fine," she said, pushing his shoulder slightly, giving him a look.

"It's just...your last chemo session is tomorrow, and I wanted to be there..." he trailed off, locking gazes with her.

She shrugged, "my mom will go with me."

"She will?" Phil didn't mean to should so surprised or incredulous, but the level of his voice had tilted upward on the scale toward the end of his question.

Bree arched an eyebrow, "yeah, of course she will."

"Right. Okay then, guess you really don't need me then," he said, extracting his hands from hers and taking a step back.

He turned to step off the porch when her small hand locked around his wrist and she tugged, with little effort getting him to turn around. With her being on the porch and him on the ground, their height difference was evened out and she easily leaned forward, catching him in a kiss that reminded him of the fiery, badass Bree that had been hidden since her diagnosis.

He curled an arm around her waist, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the soft flesh and her spine curved deliciously.

Their kiss calmed and slowed but Phil lingered until their lips were no longer touching, but instead just hovering, brushing, teasing. Bree's lips curved into a smile as she finally opened her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. He looked down at her, the beauty that could never be smothered, not even by cancer. His heart did a completely girly flip as her smile morphed into a smirk.

She pushed him away by his shoulders playfully, "nope, I don't need you at all."

He let out a playful growl, lunging to catch her around the waist, but she shot back several feet, now standing in the doorway.

She leaned against the door frame and smiled at him, "have a safe flight. Call me when you land."

He rolled his eyes, "of course, call me tomorrow, at your chemo."

"Will do." She winked.

He turned, shaking his head to himself as he walked toward the taxi he had called. He ignored the look from the nosy driver as he slid into the backseat and told him to take him to the airport.

Phil glanced out the window to see Bree blow him a kiss. Like the dork he was, he feigned catching the kiss and then tucked it into his pocket.

The last he saw of her as the cab pulled away, was her laughing face, her carefree smile, and her left hand curled loosely in front of her giggling lips, her ring finger bare.

/

Breann wasn't stupid, or dense. She was actually quiet observant and in tune with the world around her.

She knew her mother didn't want to go to the chemotherapy session with her. Bree knew her mother didn't want to be anywhere near her at the moment.

Bree couldn't blame her. Staring at her own reflection, she realized it must be hard to look at her when your mind would instantly compare her to her old, normal self.

She sighed, placing her hands on the bathroom counter and rested her weight on them.

"Honey, we should probably be leaving soon." Angela said from where she hesitantly stood in the bathroom doorway.

Bree glanced up, meeting her mother's gaze in her reflection in the mirror.

"You know you don't have to go mom." Bree said. She was giving her mother the out.

For a moment, it looked as if Angela would take the easy escape, but in the end she shook her head, "of course I have to. You can't go alone."  
"Wouldn't be the first time," Bree muttered.

Angela just stared at her daughter for a moment before taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders.

"I'll go make us lunch. You have ten minutes, then we're leaving."

Angela stalked off and Bree couldn't help the slight smile that tilted her lips. That had sounded like her normal mother, stern, no room for negotiation. Bree had always hated that in high school, but now she welcomed the normalcy of it.

Bree pushed off the counter and smoothed her hands over her bald scalp. Her eyes fell on her favorite scarf.

She left the bathroom, she wouldn't need to hide it where she was going.

_**-Autumn-**_

_the doctors let us know, the test showed_

_she'd have to fight to live, I broke down and cried_

_she held me and said "it's gonna be alright"_

_never once complained, refusing to give up_

_and I thought I was tough_

_she's strong, pushes on, can't slow her down_

_she can take anything life dishes out_

_there was a time back before she was mine_

_when I thought I was tough_

It had all been too good to be true, she realized, too easy, too simple.

Life was never so simple, so easy, overcoming adversity was never anything less than the most daunting challenge.

Bree stared at the wall behind Dr. Salazar's head as the woman continued speaking. She didn't need to keep explaining it in different ways, Bree understood what she was saying. Loud and clear.

After her last chemo session, two weeks ago, she had taken a couple tests to see how her tumors were responding to the chemotherapy. Dr. Salazar's office had called and scheduled an appointment with Bree, saying that the doctor had received the results from the tests.

Phil had returned home the next day, and the day after was the doctor's appointment. He'd done his best to be hopeful, positive and optimistic. Stating all the positive news that Dr. Salazar could give them. Going as far as to say maybe her tumors were completely gone now.

No, his optimism had been in vain.

Her tumors had not shrunken at all. They were all there, same size as when she started chemo, and there were even possibly more of them.

Surgery was out of the question. It would be too risky to try and remove each separate tumor when the were attaching themselves to vital organs and weighing down her bones. Her chances of surviving the surgery were lower than her surviving the cancer.

"We're not out of options, I promise we'll keep trying Bree. I'm going to submit you to a few clinical trials in the area and hopefully one will accept you quickly." Dr. Salazar explained, trying to keep a small flame of hope burning when she realized her news snuffed it out.

"I'm really sorry Breann," the doctor murmured, eyes lowering.

Suddenly, Bree's gaze shifted from the wall to directly on Dr. Salazar.

"How long?"

"W-what?" Dr. Salazar glanced up, sound slightly ruffled.

"How long?"

"Hopefully a clinical trial will accept you in a couple week..."

"No, how long do I have to live?"

Phil's hand constricted tightly around Bree's as he stared at the doctor, hoping a denial that there was an expiration date was on her lips.

"About a year, eighteen months at the most."

Bree pressed her lips together and nodded, her eyes dropping to the wall again as Phil's fingers gripped her like a vice, trying to hold her down to earth.

"A year? That's it?" Phil asked, his voice hitched. Bree shifted her jaw slightly, setting her expression carefully, not daring to look at Phil, who was staring between her and Dr. Salazar.

"I'm afraid so."

"No," Phil was on his feet. "No, that...that can't be, can't be right," his breath was picking up, coming in quick gasps as he shook his head. "No." The final word was stern, obstinate.

"Phil," Bree said softly, her voice low, not tender, not choked with emotion.

"How can you just sit there Bree? She just told you you're going to die. In a year." He throw his hands out, motioning wildly with the emotions of dread and terror that he felt coalescing in his chest.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes locking with his hazel ones. "A year is better than a week."

"A lifetime would be even better. It's what we're supposed to have."

"I'll still have a lifetime, it just won't be as long as we hoped."

Phil stared at her, at the firm set of her jaw, her collected expression and then he looked into her eyes, past the surface.

The fear that shook him to his core was there, reflected in her own eyes.

"I'll be outside." He muttered, turning and leaving the room.

"Thank you Dr. Salazar," Bree said as she stood and straightened the shirt she was wearing.

"I'll call you first thing when I receive news from one of the trials."

Bree nodded, "okay, hopefully I will hear from you soon."

"Hopefully."

"Have a good afternoon."

"You too."

_she's a gentle word, the sweetest kiss_

_a velvet touch against my skin_

_I've seen her cry, I've seen her break_

_but in my eyes she'll always be strong_

Angela stood in the kitchen, her husband slouched over in one of the dining room chairs, sobbing into his arm. Crying for his little girl.

The older woman watched her daughter through the sliding glass door.

Bree was standing, watching Phil with careful eyes as he spoke, yelled, threw his arms out, drew them back in, body lurching and settling, face tightening and softening. Then his body sagged against Bree and she caught him, holding him up as the tears began to fall from his eyes.

Bree stroked Phil's short hair, not murmuring or cooing, knowing he didn't need to hear anything, he just needed to feel her presence.

His body weight dragged her down as he fell to his knees, pressing his face into her abdomen before she descended to her knees as well, taking his face in her hands.

Angela read her daughter's lips, seeing her form the words 'I love you' over and over and over again, 'things will get better because we have each other, and our family and our friends and we'll make it through this.'

Angela felt the tears she'd been denying herself well up and begin to leak down her cheeks, taking make up with them and leaving trails. Her tears fell onto her husband's shoulder and slowly, he lifted his head to look up at her.

He gently wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She stroked his hair, refusing to wipe away her tears, choosing to just let them fall.

Ben pressed his face into her shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric at the small of her back.

Breann pressed her forehead to Phil's but Angela could no longer make out the words, her vision blurred suddenly and she let the tears blind her. She leaned against her husband and they supported each others weight as they cried together.

Angela assumed it was her tears that made everything look blurry and wet and drenched but as she opened her eyes again she saw it was the rain instead. The rain pelting down on Bree and Phil as Bree held him together.

It was the first rain of the fall.

_there was a time back before she was mine_

_when I thought I was tough_

She hadn't cried yet, and she was proud of that fact.

She would be patient, she would wait until everyone else had used up all their tears. She would wait for them to be finished mourning the news before she would let her shed one single tear for herself.

She didn't want to cry over herself.

No, when she did cry, she would cry for everyone she loved.

She knew they would be devastated, they would have a hard time, but she wanted them to make it through the struggle. They could survive without her, she knew it. But they didn't know it. And so she would cry for them, and hope that one day they would see that life without her would not be as bleak as they made it out to be.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized it might be strange of her to not cry for the life she was going to quickly lose, but she ignored the logic.

Dying would release her from the cage she was trapped in.

She could hear their yelling from upstairs.

"I can't stay in this house anymore Angela! She's giving up, she's just going to let herself die! I can't sit here and watch that. I can't watch my little girl die right before my eyes. I can't do it, I won't do it!"

"So you're just going to leave me here then. This is just as hard for me Ben. She's my daughter too, I see what's happening to her too! Why should you escape and not me? That doesn't seem fair at all."

"Don't you see it Angela, nothing about this is fair."

Bree's body lurched and her fingers scrambled, clutching the edges of the toilet as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Phil's cool fingers traced up her spine, before his palm smoothed back downward. He massaged the nape of her neck and her shoulder as she heaved again. Her eyes stung, but she refused to let herself cry, even in this situation where it wasn't really crying.

"Phil," she croaked. Her hand reached out blindly, as she didn't turn her eyes away from the toilet bowl.

His hand instinctively found hers and their fingers twined together and she squeezed.

"Make them stop, please," she begged.

Phil nodded, though she couldn't see him, and he slowly untangled his hand from hers and pushed himself to his feet.

As he walked to the bathroom door and opened it, the slamming of another door alerted him that Angela and Ben were done. That one of them had left.

Phil was silent, listening. Then, the creak of slow footsteps on the stairs.

Phil stepped out into the hallway to see Ben standing at the top of the stairs, one hand supporting himself against the wall. He looked up at Phil with apologetic eyes.

"Tell her I'm sorry," Ben murmured, "I'll be in my study." And with that the man turned back around and descended the stairs once more.

Phil returned to Bree's side, sliding his hand back into her's.

"Your dad say's he's sorry." He said quietly.

Bree nodded and then finally lifted her face from the toilet, but she just stared straight forward.

"He would always apologize when they fought. My mom would just pretend like nothing happened." She bit into her bottom lip.

Phil's free hand ghosted along her spine, settling at the small of her back. He kissed her temple and she sagged against him, exhausted.

Exhaustion was one of the few things she felt anymore.

_I just want some one to say to me_

_I'll always be there when you wake_

_ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today_

_so stay with me and I'll have it made_

_and I don't understand why I sleep all day_

_and I start to complain that there's no rain_

The first night it happened he had been shocked when he was woken up by it. He'd been frozen for a moment, disbelieving of what he was seeing before he finally snapped into action.

Bree's pillow was wet, and her cheeks glistened in the moonlight that streamed into the guest bedroom from the window.

His thumb smoothed across her soft flesh.

Tears.

He hated to think it, but he was relieved she was finally crying. He didn't know what to do when he was the only one breaking down over the news. For a while, it felt like she didn't care.

But she was crying, and it was a relief and he held her.

He wrapped his arms around her, turning her over, tucking her head beneath his chin. Her fingers grasped at the t-shirt he had worn to bed, one of her legs hooking around his as she brought herself closer to him, crying into his chest now. He stroked her scalp with one hand, while the other stayed curled protectively around her waist. He prayed for some kind of instinct to kick in, so that he'd know what to say and what to do. It never came.

So held her that first night, and again the second night, and the third.

And every night after that, while she cried herself to sleep, he held her.

Ben wasn't any better. He came out of his study for meals, but he barely ate, and never spoke. He'd just look at Breann and then look down and then silently excuse himself.

He and Angela were not speaking, actually, Angela was barely seen either in the home. She would leave during the day, going to the bakery. The house was suddenly built on eggshells.

It wasn't healthy for Bree to be around this environment, her parents needed to pull themselves together, for Bree. But they were both currently being selfish.

Phil needed to get Bree away.

"Hey, you're awake," Phil smiled softly as Bree rolled over onto her back, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. It was near four in the morning and Phil had gotten up for water. Moments after he had left the bed, Bree had woken up.

"Yeah, I am," she mumbled in a small voice. She glanced out the window and sighed, "it's not raining," she huffed, disappointed.

Phil grinned slightly, this was the most personality he'd seen out of her in days. "Yeah sorry, apparently the rain king didn't get my request for rain today."

She smiled at him, despite his dry joke, "but you hate the rain."

He shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed.

They smiled at each other.

"I think you need to get out of this house," he murmured.

Her eyes brightened instantly, "you do?" He nodded.

"I concur," she said with a quick raise of her brows.

He grinned, "so we leave tomorrow."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "but you go back on the road tom—oh!" It finally dawned on her where she was going. She beamed at him before holding out her arms for a hug.

He pulled her into is arms gently and kissed her forehead, "so it was a good idea?"

"A brilliant idea."

"I'm a genius, I know."

Bree rolled her eyes, "your arrogance is ruining the moment."

/

"I swore she was Snooki, she looked exactly like her! I don't know why she would take offense to—holy fuck is that really you?"

Matt had been in the middle of relating an interesting incident at the airport to Mike when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a woman who looked like his best friend.

He turned to fully face her and despite the fact that her long, dark brown hair was missing, there was no mistaking the sharp brown eyes and knowing smirk for anyone else but Breann Thompson.

"Smoochie!" The Long Island Iced Z exclaimed, holding his arms out for his best friend.

She grinned, walking into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Matt pulled back after a moment and rubbed her head, "bald is a good look for you."

She rolled her eyes, "is this how you charm all the ladies?" she asked.

"Hey, it worked on you before," he said, nudging her with his elbow as she stepped away.

"Hey man," Phil greeted Matt, the two exchanging a one armed hug.

"What are you doing out here on the road?" Mike asked, joining into the conversation.

Bree smiled softly, "I needed to get out of Missouri."

Matt grinned brightly at her, "well I'm not complaining. I've missed seeing my best girl everyday." He placed an arm around her shoulders.

"And I've missed you," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Phil smiled slightly to himself, glad to see Bree acting normally, being surrounded by supportive people who weren't consumed by the future grief like her parents were.

Phil just didn't know how or when they were going to tell everyone the news.

/

It felt good, it felt normal, to be around the guys in the locker room. Being around Matt, it was like she'd never left, like she'd never gotten sick.

The only reminder is when she looked in the mirror, or she caught one of the guys staring.

Phil placed an arm around her, while they were alone in the locker room for a quiet moment.

"Do you want to tell them?" He asked softly, his voice a breeze on her ear.

She pressed her lips together and then nodded, "yeah, I think that'd be best," she murmured. Phil nodded as well.

When the guys returned to the locker room after Phil grinned at them, "hey, we're treating you guys to dinner tonight. You guys pick the place." Phil said.

Matt high-fived Mike, letting out a whoop, "sweet!"

Bree smiled before standing, "I'm gonna go invite the girls," she told Phil. He nodded and then paused as she turned to leave the locker room. He caught her hand, realizing she hadn't been out of his sight since the day they got the news. Even though she would just be a few halls away, he still really didn't want her to leave. It was an irrational fear, but he couldn't help it.

She seemed to understand his worry without him voicing anything at all. She smiled gently, "I'll be fine, okay?" She lifted his hand to her lips, kissing his palm before smiling and letting go, leaving the locker room. Phil ran a hand through his hair and turned around to find Matt, Mike and John all sitting there expectantly.

"What the hell is really going on man?" John asked, voicing what all three men were thinking. Matt couldn't bring himself to even imagine that things had gotten worse, and Mike was still processing really. John would be the out-going one, the leader of the group.

"I...she wants to tell you guys," Phil hoped that by saying that they would let things go until later.

"Well you told us last time so..." John trailed off, motioning with his hand for Phil to spill it.

"Seriously guys, it's not," his throat closed up on itself. He swallowed, "it's not for me to tell, okay?"

"Is she going to tell us at dinner?" Matt asked quietly.

Phil met the man's eyes and nodded, "she wants to tell everyone at once. It'll be..easier that way."

_I've seen sad_

_dark times_

_and I have waited for the sun to rise_

Bree found the words, as hard as it was for her to utter them to her closest friends. Their faces ranged from shocked, to crushed, to disbelieving. Bree took it all in stride, Phil's hand squeezing her knee underneath the table.

Barbie's sob broke out first and it burst the damn. Eve and Nattie soon followed the younger blond into tears. Beth wiped at her eyes as John pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his hand over his face. Both Stephen and Bryan stared, not sure how to react just yet. Mike leaned his elbows on the table, bowing his head, sucking in a shuddering breath. Matt turned to his best friend and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"I knew something was up," he murmured into her ear.

The tears pricked her eyes once more but she was so sick of crying.

As Matt held her and Eve reached around him to take Bree's hand, something snapped inside her mind.

Dying would mean leaving them. She would never see them again, she'd be gone, missing.

She squeezed Eve's hand as Matt pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, pulling back and sniffling.

The fear was suddenly overwhelming her.

She didn't want to die.

Phil's hand was warm at the small of her back, reminding her of his presence and she relished his solid, substantial support. She didn't know what she would do without him.

She wanted to live with him, alongside him, for years upon years. She wanted to get gray hairs and not remember things and tells her grandkids the story about how their grandma and grandpa fell in love.

"Its not fair."

The words had left Mike's lips before he slowly lifted his head to look at Bree. She met his blue gaze, her agreement shared with him without any words being said. She knew it was unfair, but she couldn't change it.

Science said she would die.

"A year and a half, that's all," Eve's eyes were still wet, "y—I..." Nothing coherent left her lips and she just shook her head, her long brown hair swishing with the quick movement.

Phil removed his hand from Bree's back for a moment in order to wrap Barbie in a hug. He squeezed the small blond gently.

"This can't be happening." Barbie's eyes found Bree, "you're supposed to be my maid of honor and I'm supposed to be yours and I'm supposed to help you name your first kid and be there when you retire and..." she broke off into sobs. Phil shared a look with Bree and he moved aside so that Bree could hug the blond herself.

"Shhh, it's okay Barbie. I'll be okay."

"I don't know how you can be okay with any of this."

"I'm not okay with it, but I've accepted it," Bree murmured.

"This can't be happening," Barbie repeated and Bree just swallowed back her own tears.

Her friends needed her to be strong for them in this moment.

Bree's brown eyes met Phil's and she knew later she could crumble before him and he would collect the broken pieces of her and stitch her back together carefully. Like he always did.

And once she was put back together, he would come apart in front of her and then she would piece him back into a whole.

They would repeat the process for the next year and a half, she assumed.

Until she died.

_I've seen sad_

_dark times_

_and waited for rain_

_all I know is whenever I am far from home_

_there are nights when words seem out of place _

A week later and Bree was back at home, and Phil was without her on the road.

Matt had asked around the hotel and no one seemed to know where Phil was at the moment.

Their group of friends had been unusually quiet and solemn since Bree gave them the news. It was a lot to process—the fact that one of your closest friends only had about a year to live. It was hard to comprehend that in 365 or so days she would be gone. And she'd never be coming back.

It was incredibly hard on the group of friends, so Matt imagined it must be a thousand times harder for Phil. Breann was Phil's other half and Matt had been on the listening end of conversations were Phil confessed he wanted to marry Bree, and settle down with her, have little mini versions of themselves running around.

Phil was romantic, but the honesty of baring his feelings like that wasn't a frequent occurrence. Now, it was like all his hopes and dreams, his vulnerabilities, were being thrown back in his face by the universe. The rug had been pulled out from under him and Matt knew Phil must be floundering.

He didn't know how, but he found his Straightedge friend up on the rooftop of the hotel.

"Y'know, you're not supposed to be up here," Matt said, trying to lighten the mood, break the ice.

"There are a lot of things that aren't supposed to be happening."

Matt winced.

Bree wasn't supposed to be sick. Bree wasn't supposed to die young. Phil wasn't supposed to lose her.

"You need to talk," Matt stated as he walked over to where Phil had himself seated on a brick edging. Matt sat across from him, one arm propped up on his knee, staring at Phil intently.

The Chicago native knew he couldn't escape this conversation.

"I hate it. I hate that there's nothing I can do. I hate that she's going to die and I'm totally useless." He ran a hand over his head, "she's supposed to outlive me, she's supposed to outlive her fucking parents." He scoffed, "I don't even know what to say to her. I don't even know what she's thinking. She's trying to stay strong for everyone else and..." he shook his head. Words couldn't match what he felt, he couldn't articulate his thoughts out loud.

"I wish I could go back in time," Matt murmured.

Phil glanced up at him, "so you could what? Tell her to go to her doctor's more often and get screened for cancer?"

"No, so I could relive all my favorite moments with her," Matt paused with a sigh, "I feel like I've taken them all for granted, and now I'm being punished for not appreciating it. Not appreciating life, Bree, all of it."  
"You think this is the Universe's way of teaching us to be grateful?"

Matt shrugged, "I hate to think that Bree is sick and dying for nothing. I'd like to think there's a purpose to it, a deeper meaning."

"The only meaning there is that she's being taken from us. Way too early."

"No one's really ever ready to go Phil. Especially not at our age. There's always going to be a part of us that want's to keep living no matter how worse off we are."

They were silent for several long minutes as Matt stared off into the city and Phil stared down at his hands. Matt was about ready to leave Phil to his thought's when the older man spoke.

"I bought a ring."

Matt's heart broke for the man all over again.

"I was counting on forever with her."

"So forever won't be as long you thought. You've still got some time with her. Make the best of it." Matt said, sliding off the concrete wall he had been sitting on and walking toward the stairwell door.

Phil nodded once, though Matt couldn't see. Glancing up at the lights of the city, he acknowledged that Matt was right. Just because she was dying didn't mean she had to stop living.

He wouldn't let her stop living.

_I ain't got no magic potion_

_all I know is that we're better off together than we ever were alone_

_woman I will find a way to help you ease your troubled mind_

He was home.

He didn't know if he could really ever call Bree's parent's house his home aloud, but for the time being, it was where she was. And wherever he found Bree, was home.

Bree was stressed out, he could tell from the moment she opened the door. He'd asked her where her mom was.

"Out" had been Bree's only reply. He repeated the question, but this time inquiring about her dad. "Out" another short, clipped answer, combined with dark circles under her eyes and a defeated expression.

"I'm gonna go draw you a bubble bath," he murmured into her ear and she let out a hum of approval. She found it sweet that he remembered that a bubble bath always soothed her when she was stressed.

He kissed her softly and then removed his arms from around her, heading towards the bathroom. He walked through the doorway, flicking on the lights and made his way over to the tub, turning the knob for the hot water and listening to the soothing sound of running water as it filled the tub.

Phil straightened, hearing Bree walking into the bedroom and flop down heavily on the bed, making a lout thump. He smirked to himself and turned toward the sink, squatting down he opened the cabinet below, looking for something to create bubbles. He found a bottle that had a strong floral scent and nodded, rising back to his normal height. His eyes lifted and found something taped to the large mirror that hung over the sink.

He set the bottle down on the counter and leaned in closer to the mirror, eyes narrowing at the piece of paper. Slowly, he reached out and pulled the paper from the mirror and brought it closer to read it.

He recognized Bree's handwriting immediately. He'd read it in birthday cards, on checks, on the programs at shows for fans.

Inhaling seemed hard suddenly as his chest seized as he began to read the list.

_Things I'll Never Get To Do_

_Have kids_

_Grow old with Phil_

_Babysit my grandkids_

_Say a eulogy at my dad's funeral_

_See my daughter get married_

_Give my kids "the talk"_

_Go to college, graduate with a degree in something_

_Take my son or daughter to their first day of school_

_Be pregnant_

_Become Divas Champion_

_See Phil get inducted into the Hall of Fame_

_Have a Divas match at Wrestlemania_

_Retire from the business because I'm too old_

It felt like his insides were being squeezed as he read on, the full front and back of the paper was covered in bullet points of things that Bree would never get to do.

He set the list down with a shaky hand and then covered his face, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to stop the onslaught of tears.

A small sob escaped him, and then soft footsteps could be heard approaching the bathroom doorway.

Bree stepped into the room, her eyes flicking from the bathtub, to Phil, to the piece of paper sitting precariously on the edge of the counter.

Quietly she walked over to the tub, turning the knob and shutting the water off before it would be forgotten and overflow. Slowly, she turned, her eyes on Phil's back as he lowered his hands to the counter, where the gripped the edge, his knuckles turning white.

"Phil," her voice was small, soft, like she was trying not to frighten a wild animal that was backed into a corner and on the defensive.

"I-I didn't mean for you to find it," she murmured.

He shook his head, his eyes staring down at the marble counter, "it was taped to the fucking mirror Bree. Which means you were staring at it every time you came in here. Torturing yourself."

"Personal torture, not meant for you."

"Well it's a little late now."

She placed a hand on his shoulder blade and stepped up next to him. "It was just something I needed to...to get out."  
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this—but I'm here for you. And the point of that is so that you can tell me things like _this_," his hand slammed down over the list, "instead of keeping to yourself and making yourself miserable over it." His eyes finally lifted, flecks of olive meeting rich brown, "because face it Bree, everything on this list is something I won't get to do either."

She opened her mouth to point out that he was wrong, but he kept talking right over her.

"Because I only want to do these things with you."

"Then you're not going to be living after I'm gone."

"And neither will you."

Bree's eyes darkened, "don't be so hard-headed over this. I'm going to die Phil, and you're going to keep on living. You're not the type to pity yourself or give up. You won't do that. You can't."

They stared at each other for a long moment until Phil broke the silence, "your bath's getting cold."

Bree licked her lips, shifting uncertainly. She didn't want to leave things like that.

She reached out, prying his hand from the counter and sliding her fingers between his. She leaned closer, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

Slowly, she felt him relax and he let out a sigh, his chest deflating, shoulders sagging.

With her free hand she reached out and smoothed her palm along the line of his shoulders. "You could use a relaxing bubble bath too," she whispered in his ear.

He lifted his head, turning to look at her. The implication was not lost on him.

It hadn't been much of a secret that chemo and the drugs had definitely put a damper on her libido. Phil was never bothered by it much, he respected that she wasn't 'in the mood' as often. She had good reason not to be and he wasn't going to force her if she wasn't feeling it. It wasn't an issue.

But as she slowly stepped back and her fingers slid along the bottom hem of her t-shirt he knew she was certainly feeling it that night.

With an impish grin she began to slide the shirt upward, exposed her slim waist, her hip bones protruding slightly, reminding Phil of how sick the chemotherapy had made her. Her appetite was slowly returning now that the chemo was slowly working its way out of her system, and she wouldn't have to take it anymore.

The fabric hitched up high and he turned to her, his hand catching her around the waist, his other arm circling around her head, his forearm pushing against the back of her skull, urging her lips to his. His thumb smoothed circles on her hip as her hands found the bottom of his shirt and tugged insistently upward. He resisted, instead wanting to just kiss her, and she tugged harder, making a disappointed sound in the back of her throat. He chuckled and finally acquiesced, lifting his arms up and breaking their kiss so she could rid him of his shirt.

She threw the article of clothing aside and her fingers came down to his chest, tracing over the lines of his tattoos, biting her lip as she studied the goosebumps she rose on his flesh. She leaned in, placing an open mouthed kiss over his collar bone, then a couple more on his chest before working her way down his stomach. "Bree," he breathed as she smirked, hooking her thumbs in the band of his basketball shorts.

He stood as nature intended before her and she smiled, rising back to her normal height. He pulled her into his arms, his hands playing at the back of her shirt before he pulled upwards. She slipped out of the fabric and toed her sweats off before turning and taking his hand, leading him toward the bathtub.

He dropped a kiss onto her shoulder before he slid into the warm bath, letting out a relaxed breath as he settled himself against the wall of the tub, lifting his arms to rest them on the sides. Bree grinned before dipping her foot in slowly, stepping into the tub and settling down between his legs, her back against his chest.

Running a hand up her arm, his fingers paused at her shoulder where he squeezed as he kissed the side of her neck. His other hand dipped below the water, sliding around her waist to rest, fingers splayed on her stomach.

"I will love you forever. Whether you're here or not."

His breath and words were hot in her ear and her eyelids fluttered shut. There would be no arguing, no contradicting, his tone left no room for it.

Bree decided to let it go and instead melt into the delicious sensations his lips and hands and body were providing for her.

_I think it's gonna rain,_

_oh, when I die._

The road had been hard that week. Without Bree, after the weekend that they had had together.

Technically it had been longer than a week, due to the pay per view weekend and the following Monday Night Raw and his Smackdown appearance.

He couldn't wait to return home to Bree and lay with her in his arms and take the deep breath that he had been denied that hectic week.

He was hoping that September would be a good month, but as the third week of the month was rapidly approaching he realized it would be one of the hardest months yet.

Letting out a heavy sigh he rested his head back against the headrest on the airplane seat. The constant buzz of mid-flight chatter could hardly be blocked out. There was a crying child somewhere, two businessmen aruging politics in front of him, the woman next to him was snoring and her kid hadn't turned off the volume on his gaming device.

Phil desperately wanted the serenity he felt when with Bree.

It was a long plane flight.

Eventually, the aircraft landed and he found his luggage, caught a cab, and was walking up the path leading to the front door of Angela and Ben's house.

As he stepped up onto the porch, the front door flew open and a frantic looking Angela stood there, eyes wide, out of breath, hands shaking.

Immediately, Phil's heart rate picked up and he knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong? Is Bree okay?"

"I-I-I" Angela stuttered.

"Is Bree okay?" He asked against, punctuating the words.

"I don't know! She's gone!" Angela finally spit the words out.

Phil's eyes widened, "what?" Phil brushed past Angela into the house.

Ben sat in the living room, head in hands. When Phil came to stand in front of him the older man looked up.

"Where is she?" Phil asked.

Ben shook his head, "I don't know. Angela went into her room to check on her when she got back and she was gone. She's not in the house, or out back, we drove around the block."

"But her car's still here," Phil murmured. So she couldn't have gone very far.

"Stay here in case she comes back."

Phil ran a hand through his short hair as he walked back out onto the porch. He found it truly poetic that as he stepped outside, the rain began to fall in a light sprinkle. Angela was sitting on the porch swing, biting at her nails as her eyes scanned the street.

"I'm gonna go look for her," Phil said, not waiting for a response from the distraught mother as he took off down the street at a slow jog, ignoring the rain as it began to steadily beat down harder.

He ran for a while, checking under trees, looking for a lone figure sitting on a bench, turning down every street just in case. He cursed under his breath as he came to a break in the houses, leaning forward he rested his palms on his knees, breathing heavily

"God dammit Bree." He growled before straightening up, placing his hands on his hips, trying to slow his breathing and his frantic heart as the rain continued to pelt him and the sidewalk.

He looked around him in a slow arc until he realized where he was standing. To his left was the opening to a park that was situated in the middle of the neighborhood. Bree had lived in this neighborhood since she was a kid, she had taken him to this park before and told him of how when she was little her dad would take her here to play on the jungle gym, and how when she was older, she'd take her kids there.

He turned and walked up the dirt path through the grass which led to the sand pit where the jungle gym was. Bree wasn't there, and his heart sank quickly.

He spun around slowly in a circle, lifting his hand to block out the harsh rain as it fell, pattering on the surface of the small stream that ran through the middle of the park. He didn't see anything.

With a sigh he figured he'd check the park on the other side of the stream so he changed direction and headed for the small red bridge that served as the crossing point.

As he stepped onto the wooden planks of the bridge, he saw her.

She was sitting on the edge of the bridge, between two of the vertical beams, below the railing, her legs dangling off the side.

"Bree."

He wasn't sure she heard his voice through the rain, and the running creek and her own thoughts but he walked toward her, stopping just beside her. She leaned back, placing her weight on her straight arms and she tilted her head back so she could stare at the sky, she blinked slowly.

"I hope it's raining on the day I die."

_Summer has come and passed_

_the innocent can never last_

_wake me up when September ends_

_here comes the rain again_

_falling from the stars_

_drenched in my pain again_

_becoming who we are_

He dropped to his knees beside her.

Then he decided that this moment would be her moment to break down. The last one had been his, now he would hold her while she cried.

He could see the tears, even in the falling rain he couldn't miss them. He reached out, his hand curling around her arm. She turned into him instinctively, burying her face in his chest, sobbing, talking but saying words he couldn't understand in the mutter of the rain and the obstruction of fabric.

So he settled for just murmuring "I love you" over and over again as he stroked her head soothingly.

"You have to realize it Phil, I'm going to leave you," she whispered, lifting her head slightly away from his shirt so her words would reach his ears. "You can't pretend like it's not going to happen."

"I'm not ignoring it Bree, I'm choosing the live instead of just waiting and counting down the days. You need to do that too." He squeezed her tightly.

"I love you Phil, please don't ever forget that." A sob seized her, "and don't think that I want to leave you. I don't. I'm sorry that I'm going to leave you."  
He kissed her temple, a stubborn tear leaking from the corner of his eye, mixing in with the rain. "It's not your fault Bree, so don't apologize. You have no more control over this than I do."

She nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder and they sat together in the rain, letting it soak them to the bone, holding each other, both facing the decision of if they should continue living or wait for Bree to die.

It was one of the hardest decisions he ever had to make.

_as my memory rests_

_but never forgets what I lost_

_wake me up when September ends_

_Ring out the bells again_

_like we did when spring began_

_wake me up when September ends._


	6. I Know You Have A Little Life In You Yet

_**Okay, so just to let you guys know, the beginning of this chapter takes place before/during the end of the last chapter...It starts from Bree's POV after the weekend she and Phil spend together, continues to when he finds her in the park, and then onward. **_

_**I'm still looking for song suggestions. But now, they don't even need to mention rain. If you feel a song fits for this fic, let me know and I may just use the lyrics some time in the future.**_

_**Just fyi for you guys, the song "Fireflies" by Ron Pope, as well as his song "Shoot Out The Lights" are kinda the anthems for this fic. Um, "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith too, and "More Than Anyone" by Gavin DeGraw are also songs that I feel fit this fic really well. In case you were wondering.**_

_**Thank you to **nic-002001**, **SezPunk**, **KiwiStar**, **Pinayprincesa**, **DeathDaisy**, and **FailSnap **for the amazing reviews. They really do make my day when I read them, and they make me want to write and give you guys more, so that I can get more reviews and...it's this huge continuous circle. Anyways, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the reviews.**_

_**Onward and upwad,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel**_

_**PS- chapter title is a lyric from "This Woman's Work" by Maxwell**_

_**Songs Used (In Order): One Day You Will by Lady Antebellum, Raining On Sunday by Keith Urban, Fireflies by Ron Pope, Like The Rain by Clint Black, This Woman's Work by Maxwell, Big White Room by Jessie J, November Rain by Guns 'n' Roses, & The Right Way by Ron Pope**_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter VI: I Know You Have A Little Life In You Yet**_

_You walk outside and all you see is rain_

_you look inside and all you feel is pain_

_and you can't see it now_

_but down the road the sun is shining_

_in ever clouds there's a silver lining_

_just keep holding on_

_and every heartache makes you stronger_

_and it won't be much longer_

_you'll find love, you'll find peace_

_and the you you're meant to be_

_I know right now that's not the way you feel_

_but one day you will_

Bree groaned as the doorbell rang again and she padded into the hallway in her loose pajama pants.

"I'm coming," she croaked, rubbing at her tired eyes.

It was after one in the afternoon, but her parents were gone and Phil was on the road so she had no real reason to be awake.

She unlocked the door and began to pull it open as she started, "can I help y—John?" She blinked at the man standing on her parent's porch.

John gave her a smile, dimples flashing, "can I come in?"

She laughed, at herself, at the fact that John was there, at the rude way she'd been about to act, "yeah, of course you can." She stepped away from the door, walking back into the living room, "what brings you to Missouri?" She asked, plopping down on the couch as John closed the front door and then followed her.

John sat down in her father's arm chair and it made Bree think about how her father hadn't sat there in ages. Her mother never sat at her spot on the couch anymore either. They were both so distant and disconnected. Bree hoped her death would bring them back together, seeing as her sickness was tearing them apart.

"I, uh, I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Well obviously, but you could've done that over the phone," she pointed out as she propped her feet up on the coffee table and muted the TV, which had been playing in the background as she slept soundly on the couch.

"True, but this is..."

"About me being sick?"

Their eyes locked and she just raised her eyebrows, "c'mon John. Kinda transparent. Is this you seeing me for the last time before I die. Because the doctor says I still have at least another year or so."

John shook his head, closing his blue eyes for a moment, "no, it's not like that Bree." Before she could make another comment he continued, "a couple weeks ago I pitched this idea to Vince, and he said I could go ahead with it and it could be my...project."

"So what does this project have to do with me?"

"Well, you're the reason I came up with the idea. The WWE is starting a campaign with Susan G. Komen for the Cure."

Bree stared at him for a moment and felt the tears well at the brim of her eyes without even knowing why she felt like crying.

"I want to raise awareness about the situation, and try to get some help, and further the mission of the foundation."

Bree nodded in understanding, she understood why he would want to do this.

"And October is breast cancer awareness month."

Bree nodded again, she knew, she'd seen the fliers at the hospital and the bumper stickers.

"We're starting the campaign this Monday." He slid his suddenly sweaty palms down his thighs. He wasn't sure why he was nervous, but he could feel the emotions rocking inside of him as he watched Bree's reaction.

She passed a hand over her jaw before clearing her throat, "what can I do?" She asked. She wanted to be a part of this, it felt right to do something. The deep desire to do something worth while and memorable before she died was urging her to participate.

"I don't want to ask you to do too much, and if you think it'll be to strenuous for you, please tell me, okay?"

"I'm not dead yet, I can still do things."

He gave her a look, "I know Bree," he sighed before speaking again, "I'd like to start with a short interview. The Susan G. Komen foundation is going to supply us with a couple, but I think that the fans hearing from you will really hit home more so than some stranger."

Bree nodded, "yeah that makes sense. I can do that."

He nodded, "I'll get a camera crew here tomorrow."

They continued to talk, John caught her up on everyone on the road, she told him all she'd heard from her doctor. She was honest with him, that things were hard, and some days she felt like dying would be better than what she was going through, but the fight was worth it to get just at least a couple more days with the people she loves.

"I'm kinda surprised Phil's not here," John said, honestly curious why Phil wasn't with Bree on his couple days off when all he talked about was seeing Bree again when he could.

"He was going to come down before the pay per view, but I told him he needed a couple days of true vacation. He went to Chicago to check up on the apartment and see Colt and such." She shrugged.

"But you're here alone," John nodded to the empty house.

"Yeah, my parents hate being here."

John didn't quite know how to respond to that.

"They think I'm just letting myself die, that I'm just sitting around waiting for it to happen." Bree ran a hand over her head, where her hair should be. "But I'm not. I don't want to die. _Nobody _really wants to die," the last part fell past her lips in a whisper.

"To be honest, Bree, I still don't even know how to respond to this. I don't know what to say you, how to act around you, or Phil. I'm pretty sure everyone feels the same way." John said.

"Just treat me how you did before I was diagnosed, treat me like nothing's changed. Forget that I'm going to die in a year, pretend I'm not. Just don't look at me like you're expecting me to drop dead in the middle of my sentence."

John nodded, he could understand that she didn't wanted to be treated differently. She probably didn't want to be reminded of her impending death just as much as anybody else. "I can do that."

She smiled slightly.

"Do you just want to stay here for the night, so you don't have to get a hotel or anything. And then you can be here for the interview tomorrow and everything."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

/

It was the Monday Night Raw following the Night of Champions pay per view and as each Superstar and Diva made their way down the entrance ramp, the Susan G. Komen logo was shown for all to see. The middle rope of the ring was breast cancer pink and several members of the staff had breast cancer ribbon pins, and fans were decked out in John Cena's "Rise Above Cancer" t-shirts and hats.

After a return from commercial break, Michael Cole explained the campaign, conceived and carried out by none other than John Cena, and then he said a WWE Diva had a special message in support of the campaign partnership.

The fans began to cheer as the face of WWE Diva Kat appeared on the screen. Many fans were aware of her situation, even past the point of the information given during her goodbye satellite video message. Many had seen the twitter pic of her without hair.

On the screen she sat with a pink scarf wrapped around her head and a breast cancer ribbon pin attached to the collar of her shirt.

"During this past summer I was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer." Kat's voice rang out, and a picture from her last match breezed across the screen before her face returned in the shot. "A couple weeks ago, I was told I only have a year to live."

The live audience fell into a hush from the news.

"But that doesn't mean I stop fighting. Even now, my doctor's are looking for a new form of treatment to help give me more time, time that I need. Time that anyone who's suffering from breast cancer, or any type of cancer, needs." She took a breath.

"My name is Breann Kat Thompson. I am Susan G. Komen for the cure. Help cure cancer and save women's lives."

John Cena replaced Breann's face on the screen, "the WWE hast realized the tragedy that has taken place for one of our own, and to be honest, Breann is one of the reasons I came up with the idea of a partnership between the WWE and Susan G. Komen for the cure. We understand the WWE Universe's connection with our Superstars and Divas and because of this, we will keep you informed on Breann's condition. Thank you."

/

John glanced over at Phil as they stood backstage together, watching the video package. Matt, who also stood with the two men, placed a hand on Phil's shoulder.

He glanced over at John, "when, when did she decide to do this?"

"I went to visit last Wednesday, that's when we recorded the video. She really wanted to do this." John said.

Phil nodded, he was actually glad she had decided to make the video and her words had rung true and sincere. Phil couldn't wait to return home to her.

_**/**_

Her parents were fighting again, and she couldn't stand it. They were yelling and screaming about how she was just sitting back and letting herself die while they both had to watch.

As far as Bree could remember, neither of them had looked at her lately, they were too busy avoiding her. They were rarely home when she was home, and she was home all day, every day.

She didn't understand what they were complaining about, they weren't the ones dying.

But they were losing a daughter, and for that she would give them some lee way.

The fighting was ridiculous though, and Bree was done listening to them when they didn't have a clue.

She didn't _want _to die. She didn't _ask _to die. So why were they acting like this was all her fault?

Quickly, Bree slid her feet int her Converse high tops and laced them up before slipping one of Phil's hoodies onto her arms and then she was jogging down the steps.

Her parents didn't even look up when she quickly walked through the living room. She was pretty sure they hadn't noticed her at all. She was quickly out the front door and a couple blocks away from them. Finally away from their yelling, their accusations, everything.

Phil was supposed to be home soon, but she couldn't sit in that house and wait for him. She couldn't stand being there anymore.

Her parents were so sure she was giving up.

She wasn't giving up, but her death sentence was pretty final. She could only hope that she got into a clinical trial, and then she could only hope that the treatment worked. If it didn't, she'd be back at square one, with less than a year left to live. And she could go through the process again, and again, until one of them worked, or she died.

It wasn't a promising situation, but she couldn't give up.

She walked through the park in the middle of her childhood neighborhood, barely glancing at the monkey bars where she would never get to watch her kids play. Because she was never going to have kids, because she was going to die before she could have any kids.

She sat herself down on the edge of the bridge with a heavy sigh, and as she sat there she felt the beginnings of rain. A sad, sardonic smile tilted her lips as she felt the tears well up. She didn't even know why she was crying this time.

For herself, she realized, she was crying for herself. The one thing she swore she wouldn't do.

She sat there for several minutes, alone, in the rain, letting her hopes and dreams of the future wash away and fall into the creek below her. And then she watched as they drifted far and away from her.

"Bree."

She loved the rain, she'd always loved it. She believed her love of rain started because when she was little her mother would tell her she couldn't play in the rain. Which made her want to do it all the more.

She leaned back on her hands and tilted her head up to the sky, blinking.

"I hope it's raining on the day I die."

His knees hit the wooden planks of the bridge and then he pulled her into him, she cried. For herself, for the love of her life, crying for things that all revolved around her. Breaking her one rule. He was whispering to her, but the words blended together with the sound of the falling rain. She didn't know if he'd be able to hear what she had to say, but she needed to speak the words out loud.

"You have to realize it Phil, I'm going to leave you," she whispered, lifting her head slightly away from his shirt so her words would reach his ears. "You can't pretend like it's not going to happen."

"I'm not ignoring it Bree, I'm choosing the live instead of just waiting and counting down the days. You need to do that too." He squeezed her tightly.

"I love you Phil, please don't ever forget that." A sob seized her, "and don't think that I want to leave you. I don't. I'm sorry that I'm going to leave you."

"It's not your fault Bree, so don't apologize. You have no more control over this than I do."

Why couldn't her parents realize that?

_It'll run us 'til we're ragged_

_it'll harden our hearts _

_and love could use a day of rest _

_before we both start falling apart_

_pray that it's raining on Sunday _

_stormin' like crazy_

_we'll hide under the covers all afternoon._

Phil leaned closer to Bree, turning his face into her neck, kissing the tender flesh there, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin and he smiled to himself.

"I missed you so much," he murmured against her skin.

Her hand lifted, fingertips trailing across his short hair, "hmm," she smiled slightly, "I missed you too."

He lifted his head and rested his chin on her shoulder, tightening his arms around her waist, sliding himself back so he could press firmly against the headboard for support. "What do you want to do today?" He asked. It was their last day together before he had to return to the road. The following week he would only be able to come back for one day, Friday, before returning back to the road for a house show on Saturday.

"Mmm, nothing," she mumbled, feeling lazy.

He grinned, "I can live with that."

She laughed and then moved out of his arms to lay back down on the bed, rolling under the sheets and holding them open for him to join her.

With a smirk, he shifted under the covers as well before pulling her to his chest.

That's when they heard the pattering of the rain, and knew it was pouring outside and probably freezing.

But they were warm, bundled together under the blankets, in their own little safe haven where not cold tendrils of dread or death could touch them. At least not on this Sunday.

/

"Do you remember our pregnancy scare a while back?" She asked softly as they lay together, still in bed, in the early afternoon of Sunday.

"Yeah, of course I remember it," he replied with a wry smile, "I thought I was gonna be Papa Punk for a while there."

She grinned before her expression sobered, "do you ever wish I really had been pregnant?"

He shrugged, "when it happened, I wouldn't been fine whichever way it went. I knew we'd be okay if you were pregnant, I knew I was in love with you then and that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. I knew we'd have kids eventually though, so it was okay that you weren't."

"But now we won't have kids eventually," she murmured softly.

Phil let out a long breath and didn't say anything. He'd realized this a long time ago, even before he'd found her list of things she'd never get to do taped to the bathroom mirror.

"We'd be kickass parents, though," she whispered and he chuckled slightly.

"We would."

"So much better than my parents." Her voice was quiet.

His eyebrows furrowed, "are they still fighting?"

"Of course."

He just nodded, knowing she loathed the fighting.

They laid together in silence, each imagining what it would like to parent a child together. A far off dream that would never be a reality.

He held her while she cried.

A tear slid down his own cheek as a feeling of unknown loss curled in his stomach, tightening around his organs, making him feel sick and he wondered if this is what Bree felt like every day.

_It ticks just like a Timex_

_It never lets up on you_

_Who said life was easy?_

_The job is never through_

She had good days, and she had bad days, even though her chemo was over. There were still some lasting side effects from the medications and the chemo. Nausea, body aches, head aches, all draining and terrible. Then, there was the disease still thriving in her body which caused as much as the medications and chemo did, and much worse.

Her good days were few and far in between and usually involved Phil being home. But those days were always getting few and far in between as well as Phil got his heel push and they needed him more often for publicity and the likes.

Bree was understanding though, they'd both said it before; they didn't want the other to stop living just because Bree was dying.

She felt it though, she could feel the cancer still inside her and sometimes, when she sat alone in her parents house, her fingers were slide over her chest, to where the lump that started it all had once been. Then she'd trace the path it most likely took, to her organs where tumors formed, to her bones where tumors formed. Her hand would stop on her heart and she tried to imagine what it would be like for it to stop beating.

Not for the first time, she imagined what came after death, she wondered about it. Was there really a heaven? Would she get there if it did exist? Or was it unlike heaven, was it just another world that you move on to when your time here is done?

She didn't have answers, and she wouldn't get answers until she died.

With a heavy sigh, she leaned her head back and wished for it to just all disappear. She was tired, tired of being sick, tired of her parents fighting, tired of knowing she was dying, that each day brought her closer to her rapidly approaching expiration date.

Her throat closed up on itself and she shook her head.

/

When Phil used his key to unlock to the door to Bree's parent's house he paused at the smell of baking cookies, because Angela's car was missing from the driveway. He slid his keys into his pocket and closed the front door behind him, eyes narrowing, eyebrows pulling together.

Bree's head appeared around the doorway and when she saw him, a huge smile lit up her face.

"You're back," she said, sounding relieved.

"Yeah," he nodded and raised an eyebrow when instead of greeting him like she usually did, she disappeared back into the kitchen. He followed after her, looking around the kitchen in puzzlement.

Bree hated cooking, especially baking, but as Phil stared around the kitchen, practically ever counter top had some type of baked good cooling off on top of it.

"Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?" He asked.

Bree rolled her eyes as she shot him a look over her shoulder. He came up behind her, placing his hands on the edge of the counter top on either side of her. She smiled as he kissed her shoulder and then peered down at what she was doing.

Her mother's cookbook lay open on the counter as Bree paged through it.

"Seriously, what are you doing? I know you don't like baking."

"I don't like it, but I can do it." She replied as she smoothed out a page and then picked up the ragged, worn book as she spun around. She pecked his lips, "banana bread?"

"Sure..." he trailed off uncertainly, lifting his arms so she could walk over to an empty, clean bowl, picking up ingredients as she went.

Phil leaned against a counter, "what inspired all of this," he said, motioning to the full cookie sheets, bread pans, trays of brownies.

She stopped what she was doing for a moment, her back to Phil. His eyebrows furrowed and he was about to reach out to her and ask her what was wrong when she spun around to face him, a smile he hadn't seen in a long time on her lips.

"Because I felt like it. I wanted to bake, I woke up this morning and just...decided to do it."

She was impulsive, he knew that. She'd have random spurts of impulsiveness. Today was one of those days.

"Okay, how can I help?"

She beamed at him and set him to work, cracking eggs into a bowl.

As she mixed ingredients together and poured things into pans she asked him about their friends, how they were doing, what was new with them. He gave her as much information as he could, trying to keep up with her questions.

He hadn't seen her like this in so long he was having a hard time focusing. She was the Breann she used to be before she found that lump on her breast. He wondered how long this Bree would last, and he selfishly hoped it would last for a long time because this Bree was so much easier to handle than the depressed, accepting-of-death Breann.

He wanted to take advantage of this Bree while she was around so as she finished removing the banana bread from the bread pan he caught her around the waist and kissed her cheek from behind her.

"Let's go out tonight." He murmured against the shell of her ear.

He felt her spine extend as she arched with a shiver. She bit her lip and turned her face towards his slightly, but he didn't pull back to look at her, instead he dipped his head to kiss her neck.

She cleared her throat, "l-like a date?"

"Yeah, we haven't gone on one of those in a while."

He expected her to bring up why they hadn't, but instead she turned to face him, her arms going around his neck, her nose sliding along his as she brushed her lips to his, "that sounds like a brilliant idea."

_When the street lights come on and the fireflies flicker_

_I am walking her home_

_making plans_

_with her shoes in her hands I am watching her dance_

_as the hem of her dress gently kisses the grass_

_It suddenly rains on us_

_she is laughing and turns up her hands_

_like autumn turns leave_

_winter will breathe cold on our necks_

_snow in our paths_

_wherever she goes_

_all that I know about us is that beautiful things never last_

_that's why fireflies flash_

"Humor me." She'd said as they walked along on the sidewalk after dinner. She was already tired of her heels and out of practice so she was slipping them off when she asked him what he thought of their future together.

He'd started, about to bring up how their future had a very short time frame.

She just stared up at the cloudy night sky as the streetlamps came on, holding her heels in one hand, letting them dangle from her fingers. "If I wasn't dying, and we were on this date, having this conversation, what would your answer be?"

He put his arm around her shoulders, sighing.

"Two kids."

She glanced up at him, surprised he was going along with it.

"We want a boy and a girl, but knowing our luck we'll either have two boys or two girls."

She chuckled softly and nodded in agreement.

"We live in Chicago, in a house, not an apartment. A newer house, but one that has character and is close enough to the heart of the city but far enough away that we're not in the exact middle of things so our kids get the best of both worlds. We're married, you're not wrestling anymore, but you still make appearances, I'm reaching a turning point in my career where I have to decide if I'm going to keep going, or stop and really settle down."

Bree leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes to picture what he was describing.

"You still look insanely hot for your age, but I've got a bit of gray in my hair and on my chin, my forehead has a couple more wrinkles, probably from the kids, most likely from you."

They both chuckled softly.

"What about the kids?" She asked quietly as she pulled ahead of him, walking ahead on the empty sidewalk.

"They want to be just like their parents, of course." He replied.

She nodded in agreement.

"But our son secretly wants to be a baker."

Bree laughed, "and we'll support him no matter what he wants to do."

"Exactly." He paused for a moment, watching Bree as she spun in a circle slowly. "Our daughter won't be allowed to date until she's thirty. And she definitely won't be allowed to date any wrestlers."

Bree laughed, "that's so hypocritical."  
"Isn't that the job of a parent?"

Bree just nodded with a grin before stopping and looking up at the sky, "it's going to rain."

Phil looked up as well, it had been cloudy since the afternoon, so he wouldn't be surprised if it did start raining. His eyes returned to Bree, knowing he should ingrain this memory of her in his brain forever, he couldn't forget her when she was happy, strong, optimistic, _alive_. He couldn't forget her when she was like this, looking up at the sky uninhibited as the rain began to drizzle over her in the starlight. This is the memory of Bree that he would keep forever, even after she was gone, even when their future was whisked away by the harsh winds of cancer.

He'd remember her laughing as it began to rain, because she loved the rain, and he loved all of her, he loved what she loved. So he could love the rain, just for her.

These moments would be short and fleeting in the next year, he knew, he was aware. So he needed to take advantage of the, grab them tightly in his hands and not let go, even when they threatened to tear themselves away.

He stepped toward Bree, to wrap his arms around her, pull her into a cliché waltz through the rain when suddenly she doubled over.

"Bree?"

Her name fell off his lips as the coughing started and she lifted her hand to cover her mouth.

His hand slid up her back, resting between her shoulder blades as he leaned over to match her.

"Bree?" He repeated, his hand reaching out to her face as she pulled her own hand away from her mouth. He watched her face, watching as her eyes widened in shock. His gaze shifted, moving as if in slow motion, to her hand. Even in the dark, he could make out the dark red splatter across her hand.

"Oh my god," the words left his lips as Bree began coughing again. His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone, his fingers poised to dial when suddenly Bree collapsed.

He caught her, dropping his phone which fell onto the concrete with a crack and slid away from him.

His eyes were on her face, "Bree, stay with me. Look at me."

Her eyes were dazed as her chest shuddered and she gasped for breath.

He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, her head falling onto his chest as her chest continued to rattle. She coughed again, turning into him, he felt the blood seep into his shirt. He looked around frantically for his phone, it was several feet away.

He couldn't move her, he wouldn't try.

He fumbled for Bree's purse, which was thankfully within reach. He unzipped the small clutch and produced her phone, pressing the key to unlock it.

It asked for a password. A password he didn't know.

"Fuck." He muttered loudly.

Bree coughed again and he glanced at her before letting his eyes return to the phone, staring.

That's when he saw the emergency call button and his thumb applied pressure to it before dialing 911 and lifting the phone to his ear.

His conversation with the operator was a blur. He checked that Bree was still breathing, before telling the operator that she was still breathing, but it was like she was having trouble doing so. The operator dispatched an ambulance to his location and then the line went dead.

Bree was still coughing, there was still blood, her fists were gripping handfuls of his shirt.

He heard the sirens echo down the lonely street. He barely registered the paramedics as they took Bree from his arms, stabilizing her on the gurney, then lifting her into the back of the ambulance. He pulled himself up into the back as well, giving the paramedic her information, filling him in on the situation as the man tried to give her oxygen.

Helplessness gripped Phil like a cold blanket as he stared at Bree.

The only thing he could do was hold onto her hand and hope this wasn't the end.

Not yet.

/

They took her away, off beyond a set of white double doors, leaving him alone in the crowded ER waiting room.

He wasn't on her emergency contact list, her mother and her father weren't answering their phones, Bree's brothers were several states away.

Phil sat there for hours, once again hopeless.

/

"Are you here for Breann Thompson?" A voice asked.

Phil looked up, he'd been staring into space for so long, he hadn't noticed the woman walk up to him.

He looked up at her and nodded.

The woman smiled, "I'm Doctor Sala," she introduced, "if you'd come with me I can fill you in on Ms. Thompson's condition."

Phil nodded again and stood, "I'm Phil, Phil Brooks, her boyfriend," he said.

The doctor nodded, "nice to meet you, right this way." She led him past that set of double doors that Bree had disappeared behind earlier. She led him down several hallways before she began speaking.

"It's good she got to the hospital when she did, it's actually very lucky that she started to show symptoms now instead of later, when it would be too late."

"What was she showing symptoms of?" Phil asked, trying to compose himself, attempting to get his brain back into working order.

"Pulmonary Embolism. The blood she was coughing up and the shortness of breath were both symptoms."

Phil ran a hand over his head, "sorry, what does that even mean?"

"Right, sometimes I forget I'm talking to people haven't been in med school for years. Pulmonary Embolism results from Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot that forms in the vein. Pulmonary Embolism is when the clot breaks off and travels through the blood stream. In Breann's case it traveled to her lungs, where it blocked an artery." The doctor nodded to herself, "we performed a emergency CT scan which did show the clot in her lung, confirming the diagnosis." The doctor turned to him now, her face serious, "Breann was in a very critical condition when she was brought in so I had to act quickly. I had to use thrombolytics due to the direness of her situation. The blood clot was quiet large and it needed to be dissolved quickly before it became fatal." The doctor continued to describe Bree's condition, telling him of the medications she would have to take for three to six months that had side effects of their own, explaining what he needed to watch out for, her words continued on and on.

"I'm guessing the Deep Vein Thrombosis was caused by her chemotherapy."

Phil stared at the doctor. Of course. It was because of the cancer, and the treatment for the cancer.

"Is she still taking chemotherapy?"

"N-no, it wasn't working, so they stopped her, she's been off it for about a month now, I think."

Doctor Sala nodded, "I see, well that is the most likely cause. I drew some blood to make sure it's not genetic, I'll have those results in the next couple of days."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course, we're keeping her overnight for now to watch for any side effects from the thrombolytics. But we may have to keep her longer just to make sure there are no other blood clots and to check that the medications are working. If you notice any bleeding, let the nurse know."

"Okay, thank you."

The doctor just nodded before leading him to the room that Bree was in. She stopped outside the door and turned to him, "there's still a chance she could..." she didn't have to finish her sentence, the expression on Phil's face spoke loudly that he understood. "But I believe she is stable for the time being."

"She's dying anyways."

He didn't know why he spoke the words, but he just felt like saying them, so that this doctor could feel the horrible ache that was consuming him at the moment.

The doctor's chin lifted slightly, as she swallowed, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, and the chemo didn't work, and now look what it did. Isn't it bad enough that she has cancer? Then they put her through all of that and she ends up here. How is that fair? How is that _treatment_?"

"I'm not an oncologist," Doctor Sala said softly.

Phil just snorted before opening the door to Bree's room and walking inside. He felt the doctor's eyes on him through the window as he sat down next to Bree's bed, taking her hand in his, letting the tears begin to fall.

None of this was fair.

_And when the night falls on our better days_

_and we're looking to the sky_

_for the winds to take us high above the plains_

_I know that we'll find better ways to look into the eyes of the storms that will be calling_

_forever we'll be falling _

_Like the rain..._

"I just wanted to take you out on a date, to see you smile, make you feel normal if even for just a couple hours." Phil whispered as he pressed a kiss against her wrist. The skin at the surface was cool, but there was an underlying heat that only slightly assured him she was still alive.

"I don't know why this is happening to you, but if I could, I would take your place in a heartbeat. You shouldn't be put through this, you don't deserve this." His voice was broken and cracked as tears flowed freely.

"Now I'm going to sit here and wait for you until you wake up." He squeezed her hand, "please don't make me wait too long," he smiled sadly, "but it wouldn't be the first time you've made me wait."

_I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you_

_Every thunder cloud that came was one more I might not get through_

_On the darkest day there's always light and now I see it too_

_But I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you_

_I hear it falling in the night and filling up my mind_

_All the heaven's rivers come to light I see it all unwind_

_I hear it talking through the trees and on the window pane_

_When I hear it I just can't believe I never liked the rain_

_Like the rain I have fallen for you and I know just why you_

_Like the rain always calling for you I'm falling for you now_

_just like the rain_

He stared at her in shock as she just kept walking, humming to herself idly.

"Did you not just hear a word I said?"

She glanced over at him, "I did, loud and clear."

"And you have nothing to say in return?"

She smirked at him, "you may have been ready to say it, doesn't mean I am."  
That was the moment that he really did realize he was in love with her. He'd said those three words to her moments before, but he'd just been saying them because they were words that felt like they belonged in the situation. He loved her, yes, but as she stood there, smirking at him as they walked toward their rental car in the light spring rain, he realized he was _in_ love with her.

She doubled back, taking the keys from his hand and leaning into him seductively, her eyes meeting his before she pulled back quickly and unlocked the car. She got into the passenger seat before Phil had even snapped out of his daze. Soaked to the bone from the rain he shook his head and walked over to the driver's side and got into the vehicle, noting her small smirk as she stared out the windshield.

She made him wait three weeks, and during those three weeks he said those words to her about a million times. He was beginning to feel a little discouraged as the third week came and went and then it was Monday Night RAW and she slid her hands into his before she went out for her match. He'd been talking to her about going out to dinner after the show because he'd much rather prefer enjoying a couple hours of downtime with her than being the designated driver for all of the guys.

When she didn't respond to his proposition of dinner plans he furrowed his brows at her and she stared up at him. She leaned in with raised eyebrows and brushed her lips against his.

"I love you."

And then she was gone, disappearing beyond the curtain, the fans booing her for her heel status.

Phil just grinned to himself before looking up at the monitor to see Bree, in complete Kat mode, smirk at the camera and wink smugly.

He chuckled to himself, "and I love you too," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Everything about you."

He'd fallen for her, without trying, with little resistance. He was hers for all intents and purposes and he didn't regret it at all.

_I know you have a little life in you yet_

_I know you have a lot of strength left. _

_I know you have a little life in you yet_

_I know you have a lot of strength left._

_I should be crying, but I just can't let it show._

_I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking._

_Of all the things I should've said,_

_that I never said._

_All the things we should've done_

_that we never did._

_All the things I should've given_

_but I didn't._

Matt Cardona stared at his cell phone for a long moment, disbelief washing over him in roiling waves. The buzz of the locker room seemed to vanish around him until there was nothing but the words on the small screen of his smart phone.

John Cena set down his water bottle after his grip tightened and made the plastic of the bottle creak loudly. With a slosh, the open water bottle was back on the table in catering and he was staring at the lap top screen that had been placed in front of him by Eve.

Mike Mizanin overheard a whispered conversation, chest tightening as the words reached his ears. Two newer, younger wrestlers who barely even knew her were talking. His hand touched the wall next to him and he paused, felt like he was going to be sick, and then leaned forward slightly.

Barbie Blank shook her head as she looked from the laptop to Eve, and then to John, and then her eyes fell to the doorway leading into catering where Matt and Mike entered, both looking a lot less confident and exuberant than usual.

Mike slumped into the chair next to Barbie and Eve glanced at the blue-eyed man worriedly. Matt placed his palms flat on the surface of the table, lowering his head, eyes on the floor, shoulder and back tensing.

"What does the website say?" He asked.

John took a deep breath, "'It was reported late last night that WWE Diva Kat (real name Breann Thompson) was rushed tot he ER in Cairo, Missouri. Sources have given information that she had been having trouble breathing and was coughing up blood when brought to the hospital by her off-screen boyfriend CM Punk (real name Phil Brooks). It has been announced on WWE programming that the Diva was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer, and the last heard on the matter was that she only had a year to live but was seeking further treatment. Her diagnosis from this hospital visit has not been released, and CM Punk has not left her side since he brought her into the ER. More information to come when available." John leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh.

"Coughing up _blood_." Barbie whispered, "what could possibly make her do that?"

"I don't know," John shook his head. He'd just talked to her a couple days ago, they'd been planning another video segment for the Susan G. Komen partnership. He removed the hat he was wearing and ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh god, Phil must be..." Matt trailed off, there weren't words to describe the mental state they assumed—knew—Phil would be in.

"Devastated," Eve murmured and the others nodded in agreement.

"But she's strong, she'll be fine." Barbie said resolutely. "She'll be out of that hospital in no time."

"She does hate being in hospitals," Mike added in. He remembered, the last time she'd been injured in the ring badly and had to go to the hospital he had gone with her because Phil was in another town.

"Someone should call Phil," Eve said softly after several moments of silence fell among the group.

Matt nodded, "I'll call him." His cell phone, which had been gripped in his hand since he received the link to the dirt sheet report, was unlocked and with deft fingers Phil's number was dialed.

"Hello?" The voice that answered the call didn't sound like Phil, he was barely recognizable.

"Hey, bro, it's Matt."

"Hey," Phil's voice was still weak, but there was an obvious effort to try and sound like his normal self there.

"How is she?"

"She, she hasn't woken up yet. We've been here all night and...she's still out and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Nurses come in and check on her, look at things on these damn machines, but they don't say a word. I-," he broke off and Matt cringed.

"I can't lose her now, I'm not ready." Phil whispered after taking in a shuddering breath.

"I know, none of us are ready to lose her." Matt ran a hand through his hair, tugging the roots slightly, "did the doctor say she might...pass on?"

"Some type of medication they gave her could cause spontaneous bleeding or whatever the fuck that means, which could kill her." Phil answered.

"What happened, why did she start coughing up blood?"

"How did you-? Fuck, it's already online."  
"Yeah, it is."

Phil sighed, "the chemo, it caused a blood clot to form, and it detached from where it originated and moved to her lungs where it blocked an artery. It's what caused her to start coughing up blood and having a hard time breathing. It was really serious, life threatening, which is why they gave her that stupid medication that could kill her itself."

"God." Matt whispered.

"I don't think there is one."

/

The halls of the WWE arena at the house show were silent and tense as the news spread among the Superstars, Divas and other employees. No one really knew what to say as they all collectively held their breath, waiting for some news on Bree's condition.

None came for a long time.

/

Phil didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the hospital room, but when the nurse came in with a tray of food from the cafeteria he realized it had been a long time. And he was starving. He thanked the nurse quietly and she just smiled sympathetically before checking Bree's monitor and then walking out of the room.

Phil sighed and decided he would eat. As he stirred his soup with his plastic spoon he noticed the light blinking on his phone, he had a message.

It was Vince, calling after reading the report online, wanting to know the details of what was going on, and demanding Phil inform him if there were any changes in Bree's condition.

Phil glanced up at Bree, her eyes were still closed, her arms rigid at her sides, her chest barely moving. She seemed stable, she seemed fine, not like she was going to die.

He couldn't bring himself to leave the room, because what if she did die while he was out making a phone call, or grabbing a Pepsi. He couldn't let that happen, so he would stay.

What surprised him was that Angela and Ben hadn't shown up yet.

He dialed Angela's number and waited as it rang.

There was a laugh before Angela spoke, "hello?"

"Angela? It's Phil."

"Oh Phil, hi. You two must be wondering where Ben and I are. Well, we decided we needed a little down time to...get away from it all, so we went out to-"

Her words were sickening him so he cut her off, "Bree is in the hospital."

The woman stuttered for a moment, "w-what?"

"She was rushed to the ER last night."

"What?"

Phil rested his elbow on the bed and placed his hand on his forehead, wanting to go off on Bree's mother but he restrained himself, instead just letting out a sigh.

Angela seemed to restore control over herself, "what happened?"

"She was having a hard time breathing and she started coughing up blood, so I called 911."

"Is she okay? Can I talk to her?"

"She," Phil swallowed, "she hasn't woken up yet."

"What?" Angela sounded incredulous, panic clear in her voice.

"The doctor's say she's stable and that she should be okay. She just hasn't woken up yet."

"We'll come back right away."

"Okay."

/

Phil ignored the worried phone calls, and the people who wanted more information on Bree's "situation." He just sat with her, holding her hand, waiting for those beautiful coffee brown eyes of her's to open.

"You can't leave me yet, Bree." He whispered, "there's still a lot of things we need to do, and to say and to see. There's so much I haven't told you that you need to hear before you leave me. Please, don't leave me now. I know you can last a little longer, you're stronger than I am, so I know you can pull through this." He inhaled, his chest rattling, hand tightening around hers.

"You have to," he whispered.

/

When her eyes did open, Phil thought he may die of happiness, because _fuck, she was alive._

He kissed her, clutched her to him, didn't let go of her until a nurse came in wanting to check on Bree. He reluctantly let her go then, but he didn't sit back down, he stayed standing next to Bree, his eyes never leaving hers, his hand still wrapped around her fingers.

When the nurse left, he kissed her again before leaning forward, whispering into her ear that "you can't fucking do that to me ever again."

She laughed, a broken sound, but she at least tried.

She understood.

She'd almost died.

Phil had almost lost her.

He felt like her coming back to him was a gift, a miracle. He'd expected her to leave him, but she hadn't, she'd come back to him.

He felt like he should be crying, even if they were happy tears, but the tears wouldn't seem to fall and he was okay with that.

He just wanted to hold her, to listen to her heart beating strongly in her chest.

That heartbeat became his creed and his lullaby.

_Oh darling, make it go,_

_make it go away_

_give me these moments back_

_give them back to me_

_give me that little kiss_

_give me your hand_

He didn't want to leave her, he really didn't, but Monday Night RAW was that night and he needed to be there, he was a main event, the WWE Champion, he had to be there.

Bree had told him all these things as he tried to stay with her. Angela and Ben watched on silently.

"Go, I'll be right here, watching you," she motioned to the TV hanging on the wall, "waiting for you to come back."

He sighed, it was early in the morning, he needed to head off to the airport to catch his plane. Angela and Ben had brought his bags with them when they came to the hospital this morning.

"Okay, alright, I'll be back as soon as I can." Phil murmured, kissing her softly. She just grinned at him as he pulled away. Picking up his back and headed for the door, turned back slightly and smiled at Bree, she smiled back, and with a nod, he left.

Bree laid back with a sigh, her hand sliding up to rest over her chest and she inhaled deeply and then let the breath out slowly.

She closed her eyes, she could breathe, she was alive. She was okay.

/

Eve and Beth Phoenix were scheduled to wrestle on the show that night, but it was obvious backstage that neither of them were into it.

"What if we didn't wrestle. I mean, the fans are all aware of what happened. They've seen the video packages, there was that announcement about Bree being rushed to the hospital at the start of the show."

"Phil said she's watching." Beth nodded.

The two Divas locked gazes and then nodded.

/

When Beth Phoenix's music hit the fans cheered and the blond former champion walked out, her usual ring attire adorning her fit body, but instead of it's usual dark color, it was a pale pink with black trimmings. Even her headpiece was a shade of pink, matching the breast cancer ribbons that other employees were wearing pinned to their shirts.

She stood in the middle of the ring and waited for Eve to enter.

When the Divas Champion made her entrance, her ring attire was all in shades of pink as well. As she made her way down the ramp with her belt, Beth retrieved two microphones and waited for Eve.

As Eve slid between the ropes, Beth handed her a microphone.

Eve set her belt off to the side and turned to the fans.

"As I'm sure you've heard, WWE Diva Kat was diagnosed during the summer with Stage IV breast cancer, and just this past weekend she was rushed to the emergency room and reports were grim."

"So tonight, instead of wrestling, we would rather honor our good friend and wish her the best recovery because we received news earlier today that she is awake, and she is stable and getting better with each passing minute," Beth said, emotion welling in her voice.

"So, please, could you join us in a chant, for all those women in the world suffering from breast cancer at this moment." Eve said.

"Find a cure!"

The fans took it up in rhythm and it was beautiful, inspiring, amazing as Eve and Beth pulled themselves up onto opposite turnbuckles, pumping their fists in beat with the chant.

Bree sat in her hospital bed, staring at the screen, tears in her eyes as she watched her two friends in the ring, continuing the chant with the fans.

She picked up her phone and sent out a text to both Beth and Eve—thank you.

_Sit in a big, white room alone_

_Tilt my head back, feel the tears fall down_

_close my eyes to see in the dark_

_I feel young, broken, so, so scared_

_I don't wanna be here anymore, I wanna be somewhere else_

_Normal and free like I used to be_

_but I have to stay in this big, white room_

_with little old me_

The nurse smiled in greeting and recognition as Phil walked down the hallways of the hospital toward Bree's room.

Keeping her overnight had grown into days, and now into a week and a half. It was taking its toll on Bree, he knew, and when he could be there with her he tried to keep her distracted. She needed to get out, she was tired of being kept in a hospital room, under constant watch.

A smile unconsciously curled his lips as his hand turned the knob of her door and he walked inside.

She was sitting up in bed, a huge smile on her lips before she yelled, "happy birthday!"

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the 'happy birthday' banner which she had somehow hung across the window in her hospital room.

There was a wicked grin on her mouth as she said, "I hope you didn't think that I'd forget about your birthday."

He shook his head again, walking over to her bed and sitting down on the edge of it. She lifted her hand, letting her fingers ghost along the stubble on his jaw before she leaned in and kissed him. She pulled back and locked gazes with him. He smiled back at her, glad to see this lively, vibrant side of her.

Her eyes dropped after a moment, "I'm sorry, I...I didn't get you anything."

He actually laughed, a short, incredulous bark of a laugh. She just stared at him wide-eyed and he shook his head before looking at her again. "Don't even worry about that. I have all I could ever ask for right here," he placed a kiss on her forehead and she smiled to herself.

They stayed like that for a moment, Phil tucked Bree against his chest and she wrapped her arms around his waist and he placed his arms around her shoulders.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked softly, finally breaking the serene quiet.

"What is there to say?" Phil deflected.

"I almost died, and you were watching. I think we should talk about it, instead of bottling it up and worrying about what we say affecting one another like we normally do. It hasn't worked in the past, and...this is...serious, so I think we should try talking." She tried to sound confident in her words, but she was honestly afraid of where this conversation could go, but she knew this was the right thing to do.

She pressed her ear against Phil's chest, listening to his heart beat and feeling his lungs expand as he inhaled and then deflate as he exhaled. He kissed her head, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck.

"I couldn't do _anything_."

Bree pressed her eyes closed at his words.

"I was completely powerless and helpless and you were_ dying_. I-I know I want to be there when you do..." he couldn't bring himself to say the words so he just cleared his throat and move on, "but I wasn't expecting it and suddenly it was happening in front of me and there was nothing I could do. I didn't know _what _to do." He shifted on the bed awkwardly and she realized their position probably wasn't very comfortable for Phil.

She scooted over and forward on the bed, pulling out of Phil's embrace for a moment. Phil watched her for a moment before understand and sliding back on the bed, pressing his shoulders to the headboard of the hospital bed, off to the side slightly. Bree slid back, half of her body leaning against Phil. She placed her head on his chest, rolling onto her side slightly. Phil placed his arm around her, his other arm lying on his stomach. Bree reached out, sliding the fingers of her one hand into his and intertwining them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry you had to feel like I was dead. I'm sorry that you felt helpless. I'm sorry that I'm sick. I'm sorry that our future that we had kinda planned out will never happen. I'm sorry we won't be able to grow old together," suddenly she was crying, and her words were choked with tears.

Phil placed a hand on her the side of her head, pressing his lips to her temple, "shhh, don't say that. You don't need to apologize, ever. This isn't your fault, you didn't plan this, it's not like you want to be sick."

"I hate it here," she whispered. "It feels like a prison for the dying. I can feel myself give up a little more each day that I spend in here. I feel like they don't expect you to get better, and I know, I'm probably not going to, but I can still do things. I'm still alive. I don't want to be here anymore Phil."

He rubbed her shoulder as she leaned her face into his neck and cried.

"You just have to make it a couple more days, Bree. Just a little while longer and you'll be out of here, I promise." "Can you promise me something?" Bree asked, wiping at her cheeks and eyes but not pulling away from Phil's warmth.

"Anything."

"Don't let me end my life in a hospital. I...if I ever get so bad that I can't do anything, just...don't let me die in a hospital please, let me die at home."

He wanted to tell her to stop, to not talk like that, but that was something the old, oblivious Phil would say. They'd come so close to death now, that he knew—_he knew—_she would be leaving him. Soon. So he took the reality of the situation and nodded, "of course. I promise."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, they just sat there in the white, sterilized hospital room together, knowing what the end of their story would be, but not knowing _when _it would be.

_sitting in a big, whit room alone_

_close the door, don't want the pain to come in, no_

_I clench my fist and try to stay strong, I cry, I feel sick_

_my heart's beating, b-b-beating, beating out of control_

_Can I run, run faster than you? I wanna feel my body again_

_Feel the wind in my hair_

_but I have to stay in this big, white room_

_Everybody's looking at me, everybody's staring at me_

_What do I do now? Smile, yeah, yeah_

"A couple days, he said. Then I'd be free, he said." Bree groaned and tilted her head back against the wall as she sat in her hospital bed. Daytime television played in a nonstop buzz on the wall, but she wasn't entertained by that at all. She'd never much been a fan of game shows.

She picked up her cellphone, the date displayed there in bright colors. November. November, already. She'd received her death sentence in September. Two months already gone, and what had she done in those two months?

Nothing really. She nearly died. That was the highlight of the past two months, she supposed.

Her mother stopped by, but she didn't know when Bree could leave. Nurses came in to check on her, said they couldn't determine when she could leave either, only the doctor could. Bree hadn't seen her doctor in a couple days.

"Ten to sixteen months left Bree. What're you going to do with them?" She muttered to herself.

She lifted her legs, bending them at the knees to prop them up. They ached from disuse. She really wanted to run, to get out of this hospital.

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes.

"Hey, no more sighing! The Long Island Iced Z is in the house!"

Her eyes flew open, "Matt!"

He smirked as he walked in, steering a wheelchair in front of him.

"Happy birthday. Now let's kick this Popsicle stand."

"Agreed."

_And when your fears subside and shadows still remain, oh yeah_

_I know that you can love me when there's no one left to blame_

_so never mind the darkness we still can find a way_

_nothin' lasts forever even cold November rain_

_don't ya think that you need somebody?_

_Don't ya think that ya need someone?_

_Everybody needs somebody_

_you're not he only one, you're not the only one._

Phil was waiting for them with the car as Matt wheeled her out of the hospital. Phil almost laughed at the beaming smile on her face.

"I'm free!" She said, throwing her hands up in the air as Matt leaned her wheelchair onto it's back wheels and steered her in a circle.

She laughed, Matt laughed and Phil laughed along with them.

Matt finally set the wheelchair back down and Bree stood, throwing her arms around Phil. He kissed her before pulling back, "happy birthday."

"Thanks," she muttered. She'd be lucky if she made it to her next birthday.

Phil watched as her expression went slack and her mouth fell open slightly, her eyes becoming dull. The exhilaration of being free of the hospital faded and the worry kicked up a rapid beat in Phil's chest.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked.

"I might never turn thirty."

Phil's gaze lifted to look past Bree a moment, at Matt and he looked as struck as Phil assumed he did.

Phil cupped her cheek, getting her to look at him, "hey, let's enjoy this birthday, okay?"

She pulled back and shook herself, trying to let go of the morbid realization. As she did so she looked down at the change of clothes Phil had brought her. Blue skinny jeans and a cute top she hadn't worn in ages.

"I don't know why you brought me these clothes. We're just going home, pajamas would've been much more comfortable." She remarked as she walked toward the car, "I call shotgun."  
Phil and Matt shared a look, both looking slightly worried, and not put at ease in the slightest by her attempt to revert back to her normal self.

"I'm glad you came," Phil said to Matt.

"Of course I would. Plus," his eyes drifted to Bree as she buckled herself in, "I had to see for myself that she is alive."

That was what Phil had to do nearly every day.

/

"So, I'm guessing since you're here Matt, that we're doing something for my birthday." Bree said, turning around in her seat to look at Matt, who was seated in the back of the car. Phil just smirked as he stared ahead at the road as rain began to sprinkle down on the windshield.

"Nope. I'm just a birthday present." He said with a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes and didn't look convinced. "Whatever." Then she smiled, "but I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Matt said with a decisive nod as Phil pulled into the driveway of Bree's parent's home.

"Welcome to my parent's humble abode. If you hear them yelling, just ignore them. That's what I do." She said as she went to open her door to find Phil there already holding it open with a slight smirk.

"Thanks," she said, sliding out of the car, smiling at the fact that it was raining.

Matt grabbed her bag out of the trunk and then followed the couple to the door, sending a quick text message on his phone.

/

Eve's phone beeped and she froze for a moment, "guys they're here!" She hissed and everyone quickly moved aside from the doors, turning off all the lights.

The door opened slowly.

"Why are the lights off? My parents are home, their cars are in the driveway." Bree muttered as she stepped inside, Phil followed behind, reaching over and flicking the light switch on.

"Surprise!"

Bree jumped in shock as the lights turned on and suddenly there was a million people shouting.

Phil watched her face warily, seeing the shock and then watching as she registered that all of her friends were there, as well as her family. Bree's eyes fell on her two brothers, Simon and Lee, who both stood with their wives, smiling. John and Eve stood toward the front of the crowd, they'd done most of the planning. Bree's parents were off to the side, close to the kitchen doorway, where Angela had been cooking all day to feed the group of people that would be there.

Phil saw her lip quiver as her eyes turned glassy.

Both John and Phil knew what was going to happen before it did.

Bree had spun on her heel quickly, sliding past Matt in the doorway and running out into the rain.

Everyone stared, unsure of what to say or do. They had all been worried about how she would react, and they'd all been hoping she would react favorably, but that was obviously not the case.

"I'll..." Phil just shook his head and followed her outside, jogging to catch up with her.

She was sitting on the curb at the end of the block, the rain pelting down around her, darkening the sidewalk and dampening her clothes.

He sat down next to her as she leaned her head on her knees and her shoulders shook as she cried.

"I told them it would be a bad idea," Phil muttered after several long moments.

She didn't respond.

"They just...they wanted to do something, they wanted to be here to show you how much they all love you. They had really good intentions. They're just trying to be there for you Bree." He placed a hand between her shoulder blades.

"They're not going to think any less of you because they see you crying. They're trying to understand, they're trying to make you forget about it for just a little while. Today was supposed to be a happy day."

_You look so small wrapped up in my arms_

_I'm so in love with you_

_I'm yours if you're mine_

_don't waste no more time_

_I want to live_

_I want to love you the right way_

_And I want to fall asleep and then wake up with you beside me_

_I won't spend the rest of my life _

_running from everything that's right_

_I want to live_

Suddenly she turned and threw herself against Phil, her caught her, cradling her in his lap.

"I want to be happy, I want to have fun, I want to forget. But I can't Phil. _I can't_. I'm going to leave all of you. I'm _dying_. A birthday party isn't going to change that, and it's not going to take my mind off of it. Not even for a second." She whispered fiercely.

He held her, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other pressed against her back, "I know, I know."

"I can't be the way I used to be and I don't want them to remember _this _me." She sobbed against his neck and his grip on her tightened. "This isn't the me they know. I want them to remember me as strong, blunt, sarcastic, vibrant Bree. Not sick, dying, helpless Bree who can't think of anything but how many days she has left to live and all the things she'll never get to do."

Phil's heart constricted and he felt tears prick his eyes.

"I'm a poor excuse for the Bree they know. I don't want their last memory of me to be of me being barely able to do anything Phil. I don't want that, I don't want any of this. I want them to remember me as me, not the me cancer made."

He couldn't whisper anything but "I know" over and over and over again as her stroked her head and rocked her gently in the rain.

"They're not going to leave you Bree. No matter what you look like, or sound like. No matter what you can and can't do, they won't abandon you Bree. If you push them away they'll just fight their way back in. You know how stubborn all of our friends are, they're just as bad as you and me." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "as long as you're alive, they'll be here. No matter what, no matter how scary or depressing or whatever, they'll be here. I know that, I believe that, its the one thing I'm certain of. They love you Bree, just like I do."

They were soaked to the bone but neither seemed to notice as Phil held her and she let his words wash over her. She felt the truth of them smooth over her cracked heart, heal the bruises and the insecurities.

"If I get too bad Phil, don't let them see me."

He didn't respond.

"Promise me." She said fiercely, clutching a handful of his wet shirt.

"I promise." He said.

Slowly, she extricated herself from his arms and stood, extending her hand to him, which he took, and she helped him to his feet.

Phil met her eyes, "you ready to go back in?"

She swallowed and nodded, wiping her eyes, "yeah."

"Alright, let's go," he held his hand out to her, which she took, and together, hand in hand they walked back to the house and through the doorway.

"Bree, Bree!" Angela was breathless as she rushed into the entrance hall when she heard the door open.

Bree stared at her mother in confusion, "yeah?"

"Dr. Salazar called," Angela was crying, Phil realized. He felt Bree's hand tighten around his and his heart sank at the words. What could Dr. Salazar possibly have to say?

"You got into a clinical trial!"

_I want to live_

_I want to love you the right way_

_And I want to fall asleep and then wake up with you beside me_

_I won't spend the rest of my life _

_running from everything that's right_

_I want to live_


	7. Watch Over Me

_**Holy cheese and crackers. This chapter is 20,000 words long! **_

_**Thank you to my amazing reviewers: **nadinesmith12345**, **KiwiStar**, **DeathDaisy**, **Addy**, **SaintVille**, and **Pinayprincesa. **You guys are so great to me and I love hearing your feedback and reactions to the chapters. They're great, they keep me going. Hope you reviewers are still out there! **_

_**Three more chapters after this one. We'll be ending at 10.**_

_**Oh, just a note, there are a couple of heated scenes in this chapter but they're nothing explicit. I don't think I need to up the rating to M, but let me know if you guys think I should. **_

_**Onward and upward,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel **_

_**PS-I have a poll up on my page, that is EXTREMELY important and it would be amazing if you guys would go vote on it. Its in regards to which fic I'll be posting after I finish this one so...yeah. Vote? Please? **_

_**Song Used In This Chapter (In Order): Beautiful Day by U2, Snowbound by Genesis, A Family Is What You Make It by Jim Rule, Better Days by The Goo Goo Dolls, You're All I Want For Christmas by Brook Benton, Don't Stop Dancing by Creed, Rain by Creed, More Than Anyone by Gavin DeGraw, I Can See Clearly Now by Jimmy Cliff, The Remedy by Jason Mraz, Beautiful and Lost by Ron Pope, The Flood by Take That, and Watch Over Me by Hanson**_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter VII: Watch Over Me**_

_It's a beautiful day_

_sky falls, you feel like_

_it's a beautiful day_

_don't let it get away_

_you're on the road_

_but you've got no destination_

_you're in the mud_

_in the maze of her imagination_

Despite the rain that pelted down on the sidewalk outside, the rooms inside the house were brightly lit and filled with warmth and excitement and, most importantly, hope.

Phil's arm stayed around Bree's waist, like if he let her go she may just slip away. He had to keep her next to him, constant, unmoving, real and tangible beside him.

There were probably thousands of cancer patients out there awaiting to hear back from a clinical trial. Out of all those people Bree, his Bree, had gotten into one. She had been given the one in a million shot, picked out of stacks of applications. All because of how terrible her disease was.

He knew she couldn't be leaving him so soon.

He was standing next to Bree as she caught up with everyone who had come to celebrate her birthday. He didn't say much, just stood with her, an arm across her back. Every so often his eyes would lift to her face, see the short inches of hair on her scalp which had finally started to grow back, the hollowness of her cheeks and eyes. All evidence of what the disease was capable of. And then he'd remember she was just accepted into a clinical trial—a trial for treatment that could cure her.

Lately, for months, he hadn't been able to produce of sigh of relief.

Every few minutes, when he looked at Bree and was reminded, he let out a huge breath of relief, feeling his body relax from the sudden, familiar tenseness that had curled inside his body. The tension inside of him had become a regular thing that he barely noticed anymore. Now, every few minutes, he could lift the weight off his shoulders again and live a few moment of freedom from the pressure.

Then, when it would return again, he would look at her, remember Angela's words, and the weight would be gone.

The process repeated, like a never-ending circle, but he was okay with that at the moment.

Because every time the weight lifted and the sigh of relief ended in an inhalation, he was filled with a sudden bursting of hope.

Hope. It was such a foreign feeling now, but the hope he felt was indescribable and perfect.

Bree glanced up at Phil, feeling his stare as Matt stepped away to get a drink.

"Hey," she murmured, lifting a hand, trailing her fingers up his arm, across his shoulder, to his neck where she stopped, caressing the stubble on his jaw.

His eyes focused on her and a ridiculously happy smile curled his lips, "yeah?"

She couldn't help but grin back, the smile of hope was infectious that night, it decorated the face of everyone in the home.

"You just keep staring," she murmured.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers before murmuring back, "I'm just happy and looking at you, seeing that you're happy too." He let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching hers, his face still so close she could feel his breath on her skin, "it's good to see you like this."

She leaned into him, tucking her head under his chin, wrapping her arms around him as he did the same.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Always," he murmured in reply.

/

"I didn't mention this on the phone with your mother," Dr. Salazar began as she rummaged through a drawer in her desk, finally finding what she was looking for. She set the small rectangular business car atop the manila envelope that was laid open across her desk.

Bree looked up at Dr. Salazar waiting for her to continue and Phil slid his hand into hers.

Dr. Salazar pointed to the address on the business card, "Dr. Jorgenson's trail center is located in Chicago."

Bree glanced down at the business card and sure enough, the address of the doctor's practice was in Chicago at a cancer research center there.

"It is?" Phil asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the card. Dr. Salazar just nodded in affirmation.

"The trial he is starting is for a medicine that is administered through the port which you already have."

Bree subconsciously rubbed her fingers over the protruding tubing in her chest.

"It's also not specific to any type of cancer, but he has been looking for patients in the last stages."

"Like me."

"Yes, like you."

Phil squeezed her hand and Bree squeezed back, his support much appreciated.

"The trial will begin after the holiday season, in January."

"Alright, that sounds good."

"I really hope this treatment works for you Bree, stay in touch."

"Of course, you've done so much for me."

"It's my job."

Bree smiled at the woman as the three of them stood. Dr. Salazar walked around the desk and drew Bree into a hug.  
"Good luck," she murmured.

"Thank you," Bree whispered, hugging the older woman back.

Phil shook the doctor's hand with an appreciative nod before he and Bree left.

As they stepped outside Phil glanced up. Even though it was mid-November, the sun was shining above them in a random weather occurrence.

He smiled to himself as he opened the car door for Bree and then got in the car to drive her home.

Things were looking up.

_It's a beautiful day_

_don't let it get away_

_beautiful day_

_touch me_

_take me to that other place_

_reach me_

_I know I'm not a hopeless case_

_what you don't have you don't need it now_

_what you don't know you can feel it somehow_

_what you don't have you don't need it now_

_don't need it now_

_was a beautiful day_

Phil was sitting on the couch, his arms stretched out along the back when suddenly Bree's arms encircled his neck as she leaned over the back of the couch.

He couldn't help the smile that came to his face as she laughed lightly in his ear. He reached up instinctively his hands brushing against her arms.

"What's got you so giggly?" he asked.

"Mmm," She leaned closer an he closed his eyes as her warm breath ghosted across his ear, raising goosebumps on his flesh. "My parents are leaving for the night."

Her hands slid down his chest, palms open, slowly, so slowly.

"Which means..." she trailed off, letting her lips pressed against his ear and she spoke directly into his eardrum, "we'll be all...alone."

Her lips encompassed his earlobe, drawing it into her hot mouth. He sucked in a breath through his teeth leaning his head back against the couch.

He groaned, "Bree..."

"Hmm?" she asked, curling her tongue around the shell of his ear.

His eyes closed and his hands fell from her arms, landing limply on the couch.

Her teeth scraped the skin just below his ear lightly and he felt a jump in his pulse and elsewhere in his body.

"Are they gone yet?" He asked as he tried to breathe deeply and keep himself under control. The last thing he needed was her parents to walk in on them getting hot and heavy on their couch.

She chuckled lightly, "hmmmm, I don't know."

"Bree," he groaned again, both hating and enjoying the way she was teasing him.

She laughed again, this time loudly, tossing her head back.

"Yes, they're gone," she said before pulling back completely, her arms disappearing from around his neck, her lips gone from his skin.

He quickly got up off the couch, following after her as she made a break for the stairs. Phil slid across the wood floor in his socks, catching her and cutting her off at the bottom of the steps. He caught her around the waist and she let out a shriek before dissolving into laughter as Phil scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder.

She laughed, pressing her face into his shoulder blade, wrapping her arms instinctively around him to keep herself from sliding off. Phil would never let her fall, his arm was curled tightly, protectively around her waist.

He kicked open the door to their room and leaned down, laying Bree down on the bed.

Her laughter stopped as he stared down at her, he rested a knee on the bed, leaning down over her, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of her.

Her breath caught at the way he was looking at her. Intense. His olive eyes staring down at her intently, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration, his fingers tightening in the sheets as his focus rested solely on her.

His fingers slid along her hairline, moving through the short inch or so of hair that had grown back in the past month. His fingers curled around her ear before sliding down to her neck.

Bree's eyes slid closed as Phil leaned in, anticipating his kiss but instead his lips pressed against her forehead. Then he kissed her closed eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

She parted her lips, waiting desperately for his kiss, keeping her eyes closed.

Phil pulled back slightly, watching her with lidded eyes, barely able to contain his desire to take her. The fact that she had instigated this was what really shocked him. The chemo had really eaten away at her libido and sex since she'd started the treatment hadn't been the same, she wasn't as in to it, or enjoyed it as much as she used to.

But here she was, being flirty and seductive and playful. Looking up at him with those brown eyes of hers, lips parted, chest heaving she was the one drug he couldn't resist. The temptation of her just overwhelmed him completely.

When their lips did meet Bree gasped at the intensity and force and emotion that Phil passed from his body to hers, likes souls meeting and melting together. Her arms lifted to entwine around his neck as Phil lifted them up slightly, moving them up the bed so Bree could rest back on the pillows.

She seemed urgent. Urgent to get his shirt off, urgent to kiss him again, urgent to feel his skin against hers with no barriers.

Phil wanted to take it slow and he was determined to have the night go his way.

As Bree's hands reached down for the waistband of his sweats he stopped her.

"Slow it down," he whispered in her ear.

She huffed impatiently, flopping back on the pillows, crossing her arms over her chest as she gazed up at him. She was pouting and he found that hilarious.

A chuckle escaped him and she looked none too pleased at his reaction.

They stayed in silence for a long moment, Phil settled himself on his elbows above her, looking down on her. Neither of them said anything as they held eye contact.

When Bree's eyes fluttered away he knew she was going to speak.

"Phil, I—tonight, I want to..." She chewed on the inside of her lip, "who knows when the next I'll feel up to it will be."

Her cheeks glowed a faint pink and he smoothed his thumb across the heated flesh.

"Bree, I'm not stopping us." He grinned, "I'm not putting a foot on the breaks and shifting into park. I'm just taking my foot off the gas pedal for a little while."

She nodded slowly, understanding what he was saying, realizing she wasn't being rejected.

"Slowly," he murmured, returning his lips to hers, pulling her bottom lip between his. She closed her eyes savoring the feeling of Phil's lips as his hands moved along the planes of her body as well. Curves and swells he had memorized long ago that were suddenly so different now. Her body was smaller, thinner, he could feel her bones protruding where once there had been a thin layer of fat and flesh that filled her out beautifully. She was still beautiful in his eyes, nothing could ever take that away from her, but her body wasn't the body of Bree he was well acquainted with.

He took his time learning this new landscape and Bree reacquainted herself with Phil, the Phil she'd been enraptured with since the first day she met him, since the first time he locked those olive eyes on her, giving her that annoyed look that eventually turned to one of adoration.

She closed her eyes, let herself drift away on the waves that Phil brought forth because she trusted him implicitly. She wanted to enjoy Phil as much as she could because even though this treatment may cure her, there was still a possibility that it wouldn't work.

She could still die within a year.

As they lay on the shore of their bodily reunion, Bree atop Phil, her arms loosely around his waist, her small hands tucked between him and the sheets; his warm hands on her back, chin atop her head, they breathed in unison.

"So, you're okay with moving back out to Chicago?" Phil asked slowly, approaching a topic he had honestly been worried to talk about. He wasn't sure how Bree felt about leaving Chicago, leaving her parents but he figured she wasn't really looking forward to it.

Bree lifted her head look at him and sent him a beaming smile, "I'm all for it."

He blinked, eyebrows lifting, "really?"

She nodded before settling her head back down on his chest, "yeah. I think it'll be good for me to leave Missouri," she paused, "I think it'll be good for my parents if I leave Missouri."

Phil stroked his hand down her spine and nodded slightly without saying anything, waiting for her to continue, sensing that she had more to say on the matter.

"Maybe if I leave I'll take away the stress from them and they'll stop fighting. Maybe my leaving will help them fix their relationship. I mean, I am the reason their marriage is so messed up now." She whispered.

Phil's hand stopped its path up and down her back.

"It's not your fault."

"Oh right, it's my cancer's fault. Same thing."

"No." He was adamant.

But so was she.

"If I hadn't gotten sick, they'd still be as happy as they were before."

"They're out together tonight, aren't they?"

He'd meant it to be his winning argument.

"My mom is out with my aunt. My dad is out with work friends."

Phil was silent before sighing.

Maybe Bree was right, but he'd hate to think any of this was her fault.

_**-Winter-**_

_Lay your body down upon the midnight snow_

_feel the cold of winter in your hair _

_here in a world of you own,_

_in a casing that's grown_

_to a children's delight _

_that arrived overnight_

_And here they come to play their magic games_

_carving names upon your frozen hand._

_Here in a world of your own, _

_like a sleeper whose eyes_

_sees the pain with surprise _

_and it smothers your cries_

_they'll never never know_

_Hey there goes that Snowman_

_Hey there lies the Snowman _

_Hey he was a Snowman _

_They say a snow year's a good year _

_filled with the love of all who lie so deep_

Phil shifted in bed, rolling over to pull Bree back into his arms but when he had moved onto her side of the bed, he found it empty.

He opened his eyes, finding the time on the clock, he'd gotten three hours of sleep but now he felt suddenly wide awake. He held back the groan as he looked around the room for Bree.

"Bree?" He called, he couldn't see her in the dark of the room.

He heard movement in the darkness and then felt the bed dip. He sat up and turned to face Bree and he could practically feel her smile in the dark. He couldn't understand her excitement but he felt it pouring off her in waves. He was about to ask what was going on when she replied without even being questioned.

"It's snowing."

Bree had awoken in the middle of the night because she was shivering. Freezing. She'd rolled over to find Phil with the blankets twisted around him. Instead of trying to wrestle the covers back, she decided to just get a couple more out of the closet.

She'd walked through the room quietly, trying not to make any noise, knowing even the slightest thing would wake Phil up.

She'd retrieved a warm quilt that her grandma had made and was heading back to bed when a faint glowing outside her window caught her attention. At first she thought it was just the brightness of the streetlight, but when she leaned in closer to the window she saw that it was the light of the streetlamps reflecting off of freshly fallen snow.

The first snow of the year.

Then Phil had called out for her and now she knelt on the bed, grinning hugely as she whispered again, "it's snowing."

"Yes, that happens around this time of year," Phil murmured, "now go back to sleep. It'll probably still be there in the morning."

He rolled over, facing his back to her. He knew he wouldn't get back to sleep, but Bree needed all the rest she could get. She needed to be strong for when she started the trial and sleep and rest were two things that would facilitate strength and healthiness.

"Phil, it's the first snow of the winter."

"Mhhm, it'll still be the first snow in the morning."

"Phil." She paused and he could feel the tone of the room dip downward, "it could be my last first snow."

There was a moment of dead silence before Phil sat up and slid out of bed.

"Put on something warm," he muttered and Bree just beamed at him as she slid off the bed as well, dropping the quilt on the mattress before heading back to the closet. She dressed warmly, in several layers, just to appease Phil. She knew if she didn't dress up to code for Phil he wouldn't let her get two feet out of the room, much less outside in the snow. So she did what he asked and then they were outside, in the freshly fallen snow.

She couldn't help the childlike smile and giggle that erupted from her. She'd always loved the snow, since she was little. Not as much as she loved the rain, but it was pretty close.

She walked out on the front lawn, the green of the grass invisible beneath the snow.

"I remember, my brother's and I, during the first snow of winter, would rush outside, no matter what time of day it was. We'd have a huge snowball fight and then we'd get Mom and Dad and we'd make a row of snow angels from tallest to shortest in front of our house." She smiled fondly down at the snow in memory.

"I don't know why or exactly when we stopped doing it. Probably when I was around seventeen or so, Simon would've been fifteen, Lee thirteen." She crossed her arms over her chest, "it was when my mom and I were having a really hard time coexisting and I decided I didn't want to go to college."

Phil came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, pressing the side of his face against hers, breathing deeply, together.

"I-I miss it. I miss them. I miss Lee being annoying and Simon being a know-it-all. I wish they were here," she whispered, her voice thickening. Phil squeezed her tighter. She never talked about her brothers much. Lee and Simon were much closer to each other than they were to her but every once in a while she'd get nostalgic and let a story about her childhood with them slip and Phil would relish the moment where she let him in where no one else got to go.

She'd told him once that she and Simon, the middle-child always butted heads when they were kids, being a little over a year and a half apart. He was the model child, smart, went to college, runs his own business, married a beautiful journalist, their first child on the way. Simon had always been really close to her mom, gotten along well with her. Bree confessed that she'd been jealous of the way Simon and Angela could talk and be close but whenever Bree tried to talk to her mom as a teenager her mother would be condescending, disinterested, disappointed.

_"That's when I gave up on being mom's favorite child."_ She'd said. She'd then become close to her father, made decisions about her future that, despite what her mother said, she never regretted. As Bree had gotten older she and her mother had gotten closer, after Ben talked some sense into his wife and they patched up their relationship. But Bree always knew that her mom would be more proud of Simon than she ever would be of her.

Phil had met Simon a couple times, at holidays, his wedding a couple years back. Simon had gotten married a couple months after Bree and Phil had gotten together and that had been the first night that Bree opened up to him about her family, and her perceptions and expectations of families, how she'd want he own family to be one day, how she'd parent her children differently than her parents. It was the first time he'd seen the reflective, determined Bree that he fell in love with instantaneously that night.

Now here she was, wishing that Simon was there with her. It was strange.

"It's almost Thanksgiving, you'll see them both soon."

She hiccuped a laugh, "you know what's funny? They never come home for Thanksgiving, they stop by before or after but they go to the wives' family gatherings instead. Then suddenly this year, everyone's coming to Mom and Dad's for Thanksgiving. I wonder why." Her voice lacked humor and Phil pressed a kiss to my temple.

"They're gonna come and show face because I'm dying and this might be my last Thanksgiving, this might be my last first snow, might be my last Christmas, my last New Years Eve." With each event that she said Phil tightened his arms around her.

"Please stop," he whispered into her ear, his voice pained. "You're going to get better, the clinical trial is _going _to work."

"What if it doesn't?"

"_It will_."

He couldn't think of any other outcome. This was their last chance at forever.

A long silence fell over them in the still of the night and they just breathed, and they hoped.

Phil removed his arms from around her, instead taking Bree's hand in his.

"Now what did you say you did? You made snow angels?"

Bree smiled tentatively, appreciatively at Phil and she nodded.

They laid down in the fresh snow, side by side and spread out their arms and legs. Together they created two perfect snow angels, one slightly taller than the other. Bree wrapped her arms around Phil's waist as she looked down at their creation.

"What would you do when it snowed?" She asked softly.

He smiled to himself, "my sisters and I would build a snowman."

Bree smiled, she'd always envied Phil for his adoptive sisters whom he was extremely close with. She'd give anything for that easy close relationship he had with his sisters.

"Let's build one," she said, withdrawing her arms from around Phil and walking over to a blank patch in the snow. Phil followed after her, smiling to himself as he watched her start packing the snow to make the bottom layer of the snowman. After a moment of just watching her he moved to help her out.

Several minutes later, Bree dug through the snow to where a patch of decorative rocks was hidden beneath the snow in her parent's front yard. She picked out two rounded, dark colored stones and returned to the snowman she and Phil had made. She pressed the two stones into the snowman's face, giving him eyes.

Phil returned with a handful of smaller stones which they used to make a smile. They found two sticks for his arms and then ducked into the house silently, rummaging through the refrigerator, searching for several minutes until she found a carrot. She returned outside victoriously holding up the carrot but stopped short as she saw Phil had constructed a second snowman, but it looked more womanly and was shorter than the other snowman.

A snow-woman.

Bree stepped back into the house and grabbed another carrot before returning out into the frigid night air. She handed a carrot to Phil and he placed it on the snow-woman's face and she gave the snowman a nose.

Bree stared at Phil's creation and chewed her lip, "she needs hair." She turned to find something they could use but Phil stopped her, a hand on her arm. She turned back to look at him questioningly.

"I think she looks perfect just like that."

Her heart swelled in her chest as she caught the undertone in his voice which told her he wasn't just talking about the snow-woman.

Phil tugged her closer by her scarf and pressed a kiss to her cold lips. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she shivered, "let's get you inside."

she nodded in agreement and let him lead her inside.

_A family is what you make it_

_It's you and your loved ones, whoever they are _

_you've got to give and take it _

_with understanding and love, your family's gonna go far _

Bree leaned into the bathroom mirror, checking her make up again. She glowered at her reflection as she ran her fingers through her extremely short hair. It was growing back, but growing so slowly. She huffed and leaned back from the mirror, taking in her reflection as a whole.

Her sweater was a deep red and had a shallow neckline, covering the port in her chest effectively. She couldn't wear a lot of her old clothes. Well, she could, but she didn't like to. They all had low necklines, revealing cuts to show off cleavage. But now, showing off skin also meant showing off the tubing the protruded from her chest and she didn't want anyone to see that. She hated when Phil saw it, when they made love, she tried to cover it.

Phil's fingers of his right hand gently found the tubing through the sweater while his left arm circled around her waist.

"You look fine," he murmured into her ear, placing a soft kiss on her neck.

"I don't look like the Bree they all remember."

"Your brothers saw you just a couple weeks ago, don't worry about it."

"It's not just my brothers, its my aunts and uncles and cousins." She sighed.

"You look beautiful to me. And they're your family, they know the circumstances, they're not going to judge you."

"You haven't met my Aunt Pamela."

Phil just chuckled and shook his head as Bree pulled away and opened the door, stepping out into the hall.

"Aunty Bree!" a small voice suddenly yelled.

Phil turned and watched as a small boy flung himself at Bree, she crouched down and caught him as he threw himself into her arms. She laughed softly as she hugged the small boy to her.

"Ethan," Bree smiled as she said the small boy's name. She pulled the boy back, holding him at arms length, looking him over. "It's been a while since I've seen you buddy. Look at you, quite the little man now, huh?" She grinned as Ethan nodded proudly.

"Hey Ethan, where'd you..." Lee trailed off as he reached the top of the steps and saw Bree and his son together. Phil stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the wall.

Bree stood up, "hey little brother," she greeted.

"Aunty!" Ethan whined, demanding her attention. The three and a half year old stood with arms stretched skyward expectantly.

"Ethan, I don't think aunty can carry y-"

Bree swooped down quickly, pulling Ethan up into her arms, kissing the boy's forehead before walking towards the steps. She gave Lee a look and he held up his hands before turning back around and descending the steps. Bree glanced over her shoulder and Ethan did the same.

"C'mon Uncle Punk," the little boy said, motioning with his hand for the older man to follow.

Phil laughed softly to himself as Bree hid her chuckle in the boy's thick brown hair.

Ethan had been born not long before he had met Bree. He remembered her showing off the little boy's baby photos on her cell phone around the locker room. A year later Phil had finally asked Bree to go steady and be exclusive and then she'd properly introduced him to the little one year old Ethan. Ever since he'd been Ethan's Uncle Punk.

"Mama, look it's Aunty Bree and Uncle Punk," Ethan announced as they reached the bottom floor.

Lee's wife, Carina, glanced up and a smile curled her lips, "Bree, it's great to see you again."

Bree smiled back, setting Ethan down in order to hug her sister-in-law. Phil hugged the woman as well.

Lee and Carina both had been at Bree's birthday where everyone had found out the news about the clinical trial. So the question that followed the greeting was expected.

"Have you heard any news on the trial?" Carina asked watching Ethan out of the corner of her eye as the little boy ran over to Punk, grabbing his hand leading him over to his Batman back pack, pulling out various toys to show his uncle. Phil cast a glance at Bree who just smiled reassuringly in return. Phil sat down cross-legged next to the three year old, but kept an ear on the conversation between Bree, her brother and Carina.

"We spoke to my oncologist about it, but she's not the doctor that's doing the trial."

"Oh really?" Carina asked, her head tilting slightly.

"Yeah, the doctor that is running the trial is a friend of her's. He's running the trial out of Chicago."

Lee's eyebrows lifted, "so will you be moving back there."

Bree nodded as she inhaled softly, "yeah, it looks like it." She crossed her arms, "I think it'll be for the best actually." She directed a look at the hallway that led into the kitchen. Lee turned his head and could see his mother working in the kitchen and when Ben tried to help she pushed him aside, telling him to leave the room.

Lee sighed, "I knew something was off."

"I think it's my fault," Bree said before laughing humorlessly, "isn't it always my fault? I'm the trouble child."

"Hey, don't talk like that," Lee said, taking his sister's shoulders in his hands.

Where Bree and Simon were exact opposites, she and Lee were much more alike. They'd always gotten along better. In the sixth grade when a couple of kids were bullying Lee, his sister who was in high school and already aspiring to be a professional wrestler, put those kids in their place. Lee had always seen her as the protector of the family and sure, once he got to school it annoyed him that she was the protective one, but he appreciated it more than anything.

He may not have ever told her outright but he recorded Monday Night RAW and ordered any of the pay per views that she wrestled on. He owned the one t-shirt they ever made for her, had her entrance theme on his iPod. He was her fan and he would always support her.

That's why seeing her like she was kind of scared him. She was extremely thin. Her long brown locks were missing. Her face was much thinner, her cheek bones protruding, her cheeks themselves hollowed out. Her simple curves were gone, her arms having the same diameter as sticks.

He tried not to let it bother him but it worried him. Tremendously.

Ethan didn't seem to notice that his aunty was weaker than usual as he threw himself at her.

Lee was afraid his son would knock her over, Carina felt the same.

"Ethan, honey, be careful with your aunt." Carina told her son, her head reaching out as if to stop her son.

Lee saw the way Bree tensed up and instantly wished his wife had opted to stay quiet instead of say that. He'd been with Carina for years, but she still didn't know his sister that well. That was mainly because Bree was rarely at home. Once she got signed to the WWE she was on the road, then she'd gotten into her first really serious relationship and she was with that guy for a long time. Then they'd broken up and she'd come home for a while. Then she met Phil and everything changed again and for the last three years, she'd been away from home with him or on the road.

So Carina didn't know that the words she'd just uttered were the wrong ones.

"I'm fine Carina. I can handle it. I'm not gonna die 'cause your sun wrapped his arms around my legs."

Lee knew his sister didn't mean to sound so cold, she was just offended. His wife shrank back and became silent before dismissing herself from the room, muttering something about helping Angela in the kitchen.

"I'm not going to break because I pick up Ethan, you know that, right Lee? I'm stronger than I look."

"I know sis."

She chewed the inside of her lip, wanting to say something more to prove to her brother that she wasn't going to snap like a toothpick but suddenly Ethan was tugging on her sleeve and her attention, and anger, was stolen away by the little boy with the big brown eyes.

She sat down on the rug next to Phil as Ethan removed toys from his back pack, showing them off to his aunt and uncle.

Bree pressed on a smile, not wanting her nephew to see her upset.

Phil's hand wrapped around Bree's.

"She didn't mean anything by it," he whispered.

"No, she did. She just didn't think it'd be insulting because I'm sick and sick people don't get upset when people refer to them as sickly." Her tone was sarcastic, dead-panned.

Phil kiss her shoulder when Ethan wasn't looking.

"Let it go," he murmured and after a moment where she held her breath she nodded.

/

Bree's eyebrows furrowed as she walked into the kitchen and looked around.

"Why is there so much food?" Bree asked, glancing up at her mother who was opening the oven to check on the turkey.

Her Aunt Marlene and Aunt Belinda, her mother's two sisters, we preparing various other dishes, way more than they would usually make for the holiday.

Angela shrugged, "so we'll have leftovers for the rest of the week."

Bree just nodded, unconvinced, but she let it go, not wanting to question her mother's motives. She'd learned a long time ago to stop asking questions when it came to her mother's actions.

She left the kitchen, coming out into the dining room where Phil, Lee and her father were setting the table, laughing about some joke Lee had made. He'd always been the funny one.

Phil noticed her entrance in the room immediately, his eyes finding and meeting hers, a slow smile tilting the corner of his mouth in a charming way that made her smile in return.

She took the silverware from him so he could continue laying out the napkins. She moved around the table, following him, placing first the knife and then the fork and then the spoon on the napkins. Her father was setting out glasses while Lee placed the plates at their settings.

The sound of the front door opening caused them to pause.

"Hey everyone!" Simon called as he stepped into the house. Breann, Phil, Lee and Ben couldn't see him from the dining room but they heard his approach before it diverted and disappeared into the kitchen. Angela greeted her eldest son with a hug and a kiss on his cheek.

"Oh Lizzie, you're looking radiant," Angela cooed, as did Aunt Marlene and Aunt Belinda.

Bree smiled to herself as she set the last spoon down on the burnt orange napkins.

Simon, with his hand on the small of his wife's back, entered the dining room. They looked the perfect picture of a budding family. Lizzie with her small swell of a stomach, big enough now to be a dead giveaway that she was pregnant.

Bree stared at the woman a moment, chewing her lip, feeling her eyes burn. Phil's hand slid up her spine, coming to rest between her shoulder blades. His breath ghosted along her neck as he stepped closer to her, letting her draw strength from him.

Seeing Lizzie, it hurt more than she could comprehend. She hadn't expected to feel so...angry, so upset at seeing the woman.

It wasn't so much at seeing Lizzie, it was seeing Lizzie as very obviously pregnant. On her way to becoming a mother. Having the opportunity to give life to a child. She was so privileged, so lucky. She wondered if Lizzie knew that, if she was aware that there were people in the world who desperately wanted to be a mother but couldn't because getting pregnant now would be a gigantic, monumental bad decision.

No child should lose their parent when they're just a baby.

Bree turned away from her sister-in-law, Phil went to comfort her but was drawn away, intercepted by Simon and Lizzie.

Ben eyes were sad as he watched his daughter leave the room.

"I got her," Lee murmured, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. Ben nodded at his youngest son and watched him leave the room.

Lee found his sister sitting on the front porch, watching Ethan as he made a snow angel next to two angels that had already been there when they had arrived earlier that morning.

"I remember when it used to be us doing that," Lee murmured.

Bree glanced up, she hadn't heard her brother approach.

She smiled softly to herself, turning her attention back to her nephew. "I was telling Phil about it the other night, about when we all got along."  
"No one blames you for the way you feel Bree."

"I blame myself. I-I should be happy for her, but instead I'm just...jealous and angry. It's ridiculous." She cursed herself under her breath.

"Y'know, I always thought you'd be the first of us to have a kid," he commented as he lowered himself down onto the wooden planks of the porch next to her, his legs dangling off the edge just as her's were.

"Why? Because I'm the oldest?"

He shook his head, "no, because I thought you would want to raise a kid the right way, show Mom and Dad what they did wrong." He chuckled to himself, "you always liked proving Mom wrong."

She laughed too, she wasn't sure why, but she did. A soft, bubbling laughter spilled from her and Lee smiled as he watched her laugh. She looked like his big sister again, alive and glowing, full of a fire that he couldn't name.

"Phil and I would've been good parents."

"You guys have talked about it?"

"We've talked about everything Lee. What we wanted, what we could do, what we can't do, what we can't have." Her smile turned sad. "I always figured I'd die young, but I didn't think I'd be this young. I haven't gotten to do anything. Nothing important."

"You fell in love, didn't you?"

She looked at her brother, eyebrows knitting together, "since when did you get so wise."

"Having a kid does that to you. Makes you think."

She bit her tongue as the tears came to her eyes. Lee realized what he'd said and instantly went to apologize.

Bree shook her head, telling him without words that it was okay.

"It's not the end yet Bree. You've got this clinical trial. It's quite the blessing. I-I know our family's never been the faithful kind, but I do pray for you. Every day. That somehow you'll be cured."

"Thank you."

And even though she'd never been particularly religious, she really meant it.

/

They were beginning to place steaming bowls and trays on the table when the doorbell rang.

Bree's eyebrows furrowed, "who can that be?" She asked as she glanced around. All of the family was there that was supposed to be there. Aunt Marlene, Aunt Belinda, Uncle Michael, her cousins Todd, Heath, Joshua, Heather, Linda. Second cousins Mateo, Reese, Maggie. Her brothers, their wives, her nephew, her parents, her and Phil. Who else was coming?

"I'll get it," she called as she walked through the kitchen to the entrance hall and up to the front door. She didn't bother looking through the peep hole, she just pulled the door open.

Her mouth fell open in shock as several familiar faces came into view as the door opened.

Matt, Eve, Barbie, John, Beth, Nattie and Mike all stood before her, on her parents' front porch.

"Wh-what are you guys doing here?" she asked, blinking at them, extremely confused, shocked even more so.

"We're here for dinner, duh," Barbie said as she hugged her friend. Eve followed behind the blond, hugging Bree with one arm because she was carrying some type of dish in the other.

John hugged her next, picking her up slightly, whispering to her that he'd missed her before passing her to Mike, who hugged her tightly as well.

Nattie and Beth hugged her together and Bree couldn't help but smile at the two blonds.

Matt entered last, placing his hands on his best friend's shoulders before pulling her into him, hugging her.

"Why are you guys here and not with your families?" She asked.

"We planned our schedules around this. Don't worry, our families are aware and they were completely understanding." Matt explained.

He didn't have to say it, as Bree pulled away, she understood it completely.

All of their families thought this would be her last Thanksgiving, and because it seemed it would be her last, they would all let their family members come and be with her so that her last Thanksgiving could be truly memorable.

She swallowed, but put on a grateful smile, "I'm glad you guys are here."

"And we're happy to be here," Matt said.

/

The day went off without a hitch. Her family meshed well with her friends. Ethan and the other kids her age were enthralled at having WWE Superstar's spending Thanksgiving with them.

Bree loved watched Phil interact with Ethan, it was adorable and beautiful.

He'd make a great father. One day he would be.

She nodded decisively, ignoring the way her lip quivered at the thought.

Lee sat next to her, he'd gone from being his loud humorous self to letting someone else hold the spotlight for a while as he just sat next to his big sister and spoke with her.

He hadn't heard much about her treatment, how things had been, Angela didn't like to talk about those things and Lee didn't dare bring them up with Ben. He knew from the moment he walked into the house that Ben was not the same man he'd known all his life.

Now, Lee could see why, because Bree was not the Bree he'd known his whole life.

He could it on her, death. He could see how she constantly thought about it, constantly made decisions about it. She'd accepted it already, if she wasn't cured in this trial she wouldn't be too disappointed, because she'd come to terms with it already.

It was depressing to know, but also slightly comforting. If she wasn't so torn up about it, he didn't need to be either. He could save the crying and whimpering for after she was gone, when she couldn't yell at him or make fun of him for it.

He'd mourn her after she was gone, not while she was still there

/

"You need to promise me something," Bree whispered as she tucked her head beneath Phil's chin as they sat on the couch together, the rest of the family as well as her group of friends were gathered around, sitting on the couches, the floor. Everyone had a mug of hot cocoa and there was warmth and laughter surrounding them, blanketing them.

"What's that?"

Her eyes were fixed on her nephew who was asleep lying across the two of them, his head in her lap. She ran her finger's through the little boys thick brown hair.

She swallowed, "promise me that even if I leave, you won't leave Ethan. Y-you've been a part of his life for as long as he can remember and I don't want him to lose the both of us."

"He's not going to have to lose either of us anytime soon." Phil said.

"We don't know that."

"The treatment is going to work."

She didn't reply. After a moment she repeated, "promise me."

Phil sighed as he looked down at Ethan, "I promise."

_And you asked me what I want this year _

_And I try to make this kind and clear _

_just a chance that maybe we'll find better days_

_'cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings _

_and designer love and empty things _

_just a chance that maybe we'll find better days_

Bree stood at the door, tugging her sweater closer around her body as the chilly winter night air slipped into the house, skidding along the wooden floors. She hugged her friends and family members as they left. They'd had an amazing day, it been great, full of light, laughter and good food. The perfect Thanksgiving. Now her friends were heading back to their own families, and her family members were just heading home.

She closed the door as the last of the crowd left and she turned to head upstairs.

She stopped short when she saw Matt still standing there.

Her eyebrows furrowed, "don't you have to leave too?" She asked, pointing toward the front door.

Matt grinned before shaking his head, "nope, I've got another 24 hours to spare. We're going Christmas shopping."

"It's like half past midnight." She replied.

"And the Black Friday sales start in just a few short hours Smoochie."

She smiled at him, laughing slightly in exasperation, "we're going Black Friday shopping?"

"Yes." He didn't leave room for argument.

"Go get a nap, I'll wake you up when it's time to go," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the staircase.

She just nodded, laughing to herself as she walked up the stairs, to the guest room.

Phil was inside, slipping his shirt off over his head.

"Were you aware of the plan for Matt to take me Black Friday shopping?" She asked, cocking a hip as she looked at him.

"Actually, it was my idea," he replied.

"Really?" She sounded shocked.

"You need some fun. I know how much fun you and Matt have together, plus you'll be able to get your Christmas shopping out of the way. Killing two birds with one stone." He explained as he walked over to her, placing his hands on her hips before leaning in and coaxing her into a slow kiss.

"Hmm," she hummed as she touched forehead to his, drawing out of the kiss slowly, "well I'm gonna need a nap if I'm even going to make it to shopping."

Phil nodded and led her to the bed, pulling back the covers, kissing her forehead tenderly as she snuggled beneath.

"Love you," he murmured.

She muttered something back as her eyes closed, something that sound vaguely like "love you too" but Phil couldn't be sure. She was already asleep.

He smiled to himself before leaving the room to go talk to Matt, to fill him in on the clinical trial.

_/_

"What do you want for Christmas?" Bree asked as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. She waited for Phil's response as she sat down on the edge of the bed to pull her boots on.

Phil walked into the room, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, "nothing."

She rolled her eyes, "don't be like that."

He disappeared back into the bathroom and she heard the tap run before he returned.

"Seriously, there's nothing I want." He grinned slyly, "except you. And we both know I don't have to wait til Christmas for that."

She punched his arm lightly.

"Phil," she whined.

"There's nothing," he told her, hands rubbing her upper arms.

She sighed unhappily.

"Go have fun," he said, kissing her forehead before stepping away.

"All right," she said, picking up her purse and shouldering it, she turned back to him slightly in the doorway, "but if you think of anything, call me."

"Will do."

There was nothing on his Christmas list except to have more time with her.

/

"This has been a total failure," Bree groaned as she plopped down in a booth in the mall's food court.

"I know, we suck at this," Matt said, looking defeated as well.

They'd only managed to find Christmas presents for all of four people.

"This sucks."

They'd been having fun, but their journey had been fruitless and they'd already circulated the mall twice.

She smiled to herself as she played with the strip of photos that was in her hand. She and Matt had found an empty photo booth and taken advantage of it. Matt held the other two strips of photos they'd taken, looking them over, laughing to himself.

"These are pretty great," she murmured to herself as she laughed a particular one where she and Matt were pulling a Charlie's Angels pose.

That's when it came to her. Instead of buying everyone a random item of junk that they'll never use, or a piece of clothing that doesn't fit into their wardrobe anywhere, instead of all that, she'd summarize her friendship with each person by making them a scrapbook. A collection of memories for them to keep and look at even after she's gone.

She nodded, that was what she would do.

_You're all I want for Christmas _

_All I want my whole life through _

_each day is just like Christmas _

_Anytime that I'm with you _

_You're all I want for Christmas _

_And if all my dreams come true _

_Then I'll awake on Christmas mornin' _

_and find my stocking filled with you_

She'd always really enjoyed Christmas. It was the one day of the year where she and her mother could put aside their issues, she and Simon would stop arguing with each other, Lee's humor would be boundless, Ben would put aside his work.

But that Christmas morning, Christmas of 2012, it seemed a little different to her.

She realized it could be her last Christmas.

She sighed to herself as she opened her eyes, it was early but she could faintly hear her mother down in the kitchen.

Angela would preparing her famous blueberry muffins along with a small batch of poppy seed ones because Breann and Lee didn't like blueberries. She'd be making coffee for herself and Ben, and her special peppermint hot chocolate for everyone else.

The presents from "Santa" would be under the tree for Ethan, and the cookies left for the jolly old man would have bite marks in them, the carrots for Santa's reindeer gone.

Bree remembered when she'd been ten and she was already aware that Santa didn't exist, but Lee on the other hand still whole-heartedly believed in the myth of Santa Claus.

She'd been the one to pick out the gifts from Santa and leave them under the tree for her brother. Simon was too literal to still believe, but he didn't approve of letting his little brother go on believing. He wanted to ruin it for Lee, but Breann didn't let him.

Bree turned her head to look at Phil, he was asleep, had been for a while now which was a miracle.

The night before, her family had come over for the Christmas Eve potluck dinner they had every year. The whole family got together the night before, so that on Christmas they could spend the day elsewhere with their respective close family, or with the in-laws.

This year though, her brothers had decided that they'd spend Christmas day at their parents' house, with their sister. Bree did appreciate it, but she knew it was because they believed this Christmas to be her last.

She could never tell Phil, but she believed it was her last too. There were no guarantees that this treatment would work, the best it could really do was give her a couple more months to live before the disease killed her.

Voicing those thoughts to Phil would crush him, he'd deny it, argue that it could cure her.

She loved how adamant he was, how badly he wished for it to be her salvation. It was unnaturally optimistic for him.

She reverently stroked him face, from hairline to jaw, with a feather-light touch. Then she began to push herself up off the bed but before her feet could even brush the floor, Phil's hand wrapped around her wrist.

"For Christmas, I want to wake up next to you, not to an open bed," he mumbled into the pillow, still sound groggy.

A tiny smile curled her lips and she nodded even though his eyes were still closed.

She laid back down, settling herself against her pillow, turning her face to look at him.

Phil waited a couple of minutes before he opened his eyes. He was awake, there was no chance he'd fall back asleep once he'd spoken, but he was trying to think of what to say when he did open his eyes.

Possibly their last Christmas.

It made him think of their first Christmas together. The awkward holiday where they met up outside the airport in Missouri, neither having a gift for each other because they couldn't even think of anything appropriate. They'd been in that awkward phase of the relationship, where they were more than a simple couple, but not at the "in-love" phase yet.

They'd decided that on that day, each Christmas, they'd only get each other one gift and they couldn't complain about what it was because they both agreed that they sucked at buying gifts for people. The lack of judgment and disappointment was great. They didn't have to worry about what the other thought of the gift, didn't have to worry about one-upping the gift from last year, or fear that one did more than the other.

This year felt a little different though, he'd wanted to shower her in gifts. One for each year that he wouldn't get to spend with her once she was gone.

Her feelings had been mostly the same, though she hadn't expressed them to him aloud.

/

They'd opened their presents, piles of crumpled up wrapping paper and empty gift bags lay around the living room. There was an empty gap beneath the tree now that the presents were gone.

Ethan was starting to open up his new toys and everyone watched the eager child with a smile.

Bree wasn't watching her nephew though, instead she was looking up at Phil, who was looking back down at her.

They hadn't given each other their gifts yet.

"Let's go outside," Phil murmured and she nodded. She murmured to Lee that they'd be right back.

They pulled their coats on over their pajamas, which they hadn't changed out of yet, and grabbed refills for their hot chocolate before they stepped out onto the front porch. Together they sat down on the bench, Phil wrapping his free arm around her and Bree snuggling into him.

She set her hot chocolate down and played with the small box in her hands, pressing her lips together, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Phil watched her silently, after a moment, he reached for a box beneath the bench but she stopped him.

"Can I give you your gift first?" she asked softly.

"'Course," he murmured as he leaned back. After she took a shuddering, deep breath she handed him the box.

It was a small navy box about the size of his palm, wrapped around it was a silver boy and a small tag that read "To: Phil, Love Always Bree."

His heart thudded in his chest as he undid the ribbon and then slowly lifted off the top of the box. Her folded back the thin white tissue paper and let his fingers curl around the object inside.

As he drew his hand upward, the long silver chain dropped down revealing its length. His eyes narrowed on it; a long, thin, silver chain.

At the bottom hung a plain silver key. Engraved on the rounded part of the key was the number 515. The number immediately made sense to him. Their anniversary was May 15th. 5/15. 515.

"What.." He was going to ask what the key opens but she answered before he could even finish the question.

"You can't open it til I'm gone."

His eyes snapped back to her, staring at her, his gaze telling her the last thing he wanted to talk about was her dying. She didn't offer anything else, just stared at the key dangling from his fingers.

After a moment, he took his eyes away from her and placed the chain around his neck.

He picked up the key and looked at it, knew there were many things it could unlock. He couldn't figure out what it led to.

He glanced up at Bree before reaching under the bench and picking up the box he had for her. He handed it to and when she took it, she was shocked by its weight. She set it down on her lap as she undid the deep blue ribbon.

The box was tall, several inches deep and she wondered what it could be.

She lifted the top and set it aside before reaching in. Her fingers touched smoothness, ran down the sides, touched several edges.

She gripped the bottom of whatever it was and removed it gently.

It was a stack of letters, tied together by a thin cord. The one on top didn't have a return address but her name was written across it in a fine cursive.

She looked up at Phil, curiously.

"29 letters. One for each year you've been alive." He smiled softly letting out a chocked chuckle, "it was supposed to be your birthday present, but we couldn't finish it in time."

She hadn't even realized till that moment that she hadn't received a birthday present. Everyone being there had been a present enough, she hadn't even thought about it.

"We?" She asked.

"Everyone." He nodded towards the stack of letters, "you'll see what I mean when you read them."

"When..." she trailed off.

"When you're ready to."

She nodded.

"Bree, I need to know that you want this treatment to work." His voice cracked, "if-if you don't want to put yourself through it, if you don't want it to work, just tell me and we won't do this." There was a glassiness to his olive eyes, "I just want you for as long as I can have you, but I want you to be here, body and soul with me. Whatever way you believe will keep you here is what we'll do, okay?"

He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, raising her knuckles to his lips.

There, in the cold winter air, snow beginning to slowly swirl down from the sky and stick to the wooden planks of the porch, she stared into Phil's eyes and saw him, saw all the reasons why she loved him and she knew, she felt it rattle deep in her chest, she needed to survive. She needed to keep leaving, she needed to believe she could buy some more time. More time to be spent with this man who was willing to give her anything and everything so long as she was there with him. He would trade anything to get more time with her, take on the disease for her if he could, experience the side effects of this new treatment so she wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

She saw his desperation, his fear, his love, everything in his olive eyes as he looked back at her, waiting for her answer.

"I want the treatment to work."

He let out a breath of a laugh, his body relaxing as a relieved smile curled his lips.

She leaned in, kissing him, feeling the cold bite of his lip ring and enjoying the presence of Phil that she'd always been comfortable and safe in.

"I love you, I never want to leave you," she whispered against his skin, pressing kisses wherever she could reach.

He wrapped an arm around her neck, drawing her into him, pressing his cheek to hers.

The idea of losing her would never be okay, it would never sit well with him.

If he had to, every day he would convince her to keep on living.

_At times life is wicked and I just can't see the light_

_A silver lining sometimes isn't enough_

_to make some wrongs seem right_

_whatever life brings_

_I've been through everything _

_and now I'm on my knees again_

_but I know I must go on_

_although I hurt I must be strong _

_because inside I know that many feel this way_

_children don't stop dancing_

_believe you can fly_

_away...away_

The holiday season was ending, but snow was still heavy on the ground as Bree sat at the dining room table, a mug of hot cocoa in her hand as she flipped through a wig magazine.

"Bree, did you read this packet?" Phil called from the living room.

He'd gotten back from the road the day before and had found the packet from Dr. Jorgenson on the dinner table where Bree had left it for him to read. That morning he'd picked it up and taken it into the living room with it as he sat with her father to watch TV.

"Some of it. I skimmed the rest." She called back.

Phil walked into the dinning room, "well maybe you should've read all of it because I think you skimmed over the list of side effects."

"No, that was a bulleted list, read that." She replied, pointing at him with her finger without even looking up.

"And you still want to do it? I mean, some of this stuff, it's worse than what the chemo did." His voice was hesitant. He didn't want her to change her mind, she knew, but he was still giving her the option to back out.

"It's the only chance I've got right now, Phil. So I'm going to take it even if my fingernails fall off." She shrugged as she turned the page,looking over the various hair colors the wigs came in.

His smile was grim as he tried to lighten the conversation with humor, "so you did read it."

"Uh huh," she replied.

Phil sat down next to her, setting the heavy packet down and instead looking at the catalog that rested in front of her.

"So...a wig?"

"I'm going to be losing my hair again, might as well."

/

"So, where are your parents going?" Phil asked as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen. Angela and Ben were upstairs getting ready for some party.

"The bakery has a big New Years Eve party every year," Bree replied as she placed the bag of popcorn into the microwave.

Phil raised his eyebrows, "and we're not going because..."

"Because I don't want to have a million of my mom's friends pitying me all night." She punched in the time for the popcorn, "I'd much rather stay in with you, where no one is looking at me like I'm a sad puppy that no one will adopt."

"I'd adopt you."

She rolled her eyes at him as she stepped away from the microwave and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pecked his lips.

"Three days," she murmured as she looked up at him.

"Three days." He repeated with a nod.

Three days until they were back in Chicago. January 3rd, 2013. They'd fly in that morning, were scheduled to meet for lunch with Scott and Phil's sister Chaleen. Then after that they'd be meeting Dr. Jorgenson for the first time.

They were silent, just looking at each other, thinking on the trial.

The beeping of the microwave drew Bree out of Phil's arms.

She poured the popcorn into a bowl and then they walked back into the living room, settling on the couch to watch the countdown.

Sammy came trailing into the room with a sleepy meow. He settled himself down on the back of the couch next to Phil's head.

They watched singer's perform on the streets of New York as everyone eagerly awaited for the new year.

A year that Bree hoped would bring her life. A year she hoped to see begin and end. She could only hope.

"Do you want to dance?" Phil asked.

Bree's eyebrows furrowed. It was nearly midnight now, the countdown would begin any second and there Phil was, getting off the couch, turning and offering her his hand.

She smiled slightly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "what?"

"Do you want to dance?"

She raised her eyebrows at him and he just shook his hand at her.

After a brief second of hesitation she placed her hand in his.

He drew her close, one hand on her waist, the other holding hers.

They slowly waltzed in a circle around the coffee table in her parent's living room.

"I remember the first time we danced like this." She said with a laugh.

"You mean when you made fun of me for knowing how to waltz?"

"Yeah, Simon's wedding." She giggled, "I just wasn't expecting it."

He suddenly dipped her and she let out a laugh. Phil couldn't help but smile. Each laugh that she emitted because of his efforts felt like a small victory.

In the background, the crowd in New York began chanting.

Bree was oblivious as Phil pulled her back into an upright position and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Happy new year Bree," he murmured as cheers broke out on the TV and then his lips were against hers and she was feeling hopeful.

_**/**_

Phil would never say it out loud to Bree, but he had missed Chicago. So much. He had a deep connection to the city and being away from it did suck, but he'd been gone in order to be with Bree.

Now he had his two favorite things, Bree and Chicago. Plus his best friend and his sister.

He loved seeing Bree get along with his sister's. He knew that they could be really hard to please and they were extremely protective but Bree somehow had made them fall for her as hard as he himself had. His sisters loved her.

Bree loved Phil's sisters. She'd never had a sister of her own so she envied Phil that, even though they weren't his biological sisters. That didn't matter to him, they were bonded with something stronger than genetics.

Colt got along great with Bree as well. Actually, he'd been the one to call Phil out on his feelings for Bree.

_"You're in love with her." _He'd said one day while sitting in their apartment. It hadn't been a question, but a statement, an observation.

It had been completely true as well.

So lunch with Chaleen and Colt was good, a nice stress reliever before they went to meet Dr. Jorgenson.

As they left the restaurant Chaleen pulled him aside.

"How you holding up?" She asked, honestly looking worried for her brother.

He smiled, an honest smile, "better than I have in a while. She's...she's really trying. Not just for me either. She's fighting hard."

Chaleen smiled and nodded, "good. That's really good. I-if you guys need anything..if you need any help getting her to the trial or anything..."

"We'll let you know, I know," Phil said, pulling his sister into a hug while she laughed softly.

"Take car kid," he whispered to her before they rejoined Colt and Bree. His best friend had Bree laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach and Colt was grinning victoriously.

"I'll see you soon man," Phil said, hugging his best friend.

"Love you."

"Love you too Colt." Phil patted the mans back and watched over his shoulder as Bree hugged Chaleen and whispered something to her. Chaleen pulled back and nodded.

Bree then hugged Colt goodbye as Phil hugged his sister once more before they headed to Phil's car.

They drove to the cancer center that Doctor Jorgenson's trial was based out of. They scurried out of the cold and inside the glass double doors.

Breann spoke softly with the secretary, who told them they'd be called in to see Dr. Jorgenson in a few minutes.

They sat down in the surprisingly comfortable waiting room chairs and every few seconds Bree would fidget uncomfortably in her seat until finally Phil settled his hand on her thigh.

"Chill out," he murmured, catching her eyes with his.

She let out a slow breath and opened her mouth to respond but suddenly the opening of a door stole her attention. She turned to see a nurse standing in the doorway.

"Breann Thompson?" The nurse called.

"That's me," Bree said, raising her hand awkwardly as she stood. Phil stood with her and together they followed the nurse through the door and down a hall and into an empty office.

"The doctor will be in in a moment."

"A moment," Breann scoffed seven minutes later when they were still sitting there alone.

Phil couldn't help but laugh at Bree's attitude. It was quite comical.

"Sorry for the wait," a voice said and both Bree and Phil to stare at the man in the doorway who was shrugging off his lab coat.

He was blond with blue eyes, probably in his mid to late forties with little sign of gray hair. The crow's feet around his eyes gave away his age otherwise Bree would've thought he was much younger.

"I'm doctor Jorgenson," he greeted, holding his hand out.

Bree shook it and then Phil did the same.

"Breann Thompson," she introduced. "And this is my boyfriend, Phil Brooks."

"Well hello, how's your day been so far?" The doctor asked as he retrieved a file from a cabinet and sat down at his desk, searching in his drawers until he found a specific pen.

Bree's nerves were grating but she forced herself to be polite, "it's been fine."

"Good, good. So you've gotten into the trial. Good. I just have a few questions to make sure all your information here is correct."

The next several minutes was filled with Dr. Jorgenson asking Bree about her prior treatments and experiences which she answered honestly and quickly, wanting to move on to talking about the trial.

"Everything looks good on the file. All right, now onto the matter at hand." He took off his reading glasses and looked directly at Bree, "I'm sure you've read the information packet."

She nodded.

"Do you have any questions that weren't answered in the packet?"

She stared blankly for a moment. She'd never once thought to come up with questions. She figured he'd just tell her and that would be enough.

"How long will the trial last?" Phil asked, coming to her rescue. She glanced at Phil before looking back at the doctor and nodding.

"Eight weeks. You'll come in for treatment once a week and you'll have two injections in between."

Bree bit down on her lip and nodded, "and after eight weeks?"

"We'll be monitoring your progress. After eight weeks we should be able to determine whether it's doing it's job or not."

"O-okay."

"If you're up for it Ms. Thompson, I'd really like for you to start the trial with the new group this week."

_ "Please, call me Bree. And...I'd love to start this week." _

_At times life's unfair and you know it's plain to see_

_hey god I know I'm just a dot in this world_

_have you forgot about me?_

_Whatever life brings_

_I've been through everything _

_and now I'm on my knees again_

Bree's body was shaking with nerves as she sat down in the treatment room. Phil sat down in the visitor's chair and reached out, taking her hand in his.

A nurse glanced at her for permission and Bree nodded, silently letting the nurse know it would be okay to reach into her shirt and find the tubing she needed to hook Bree up to the medication.

After that was done the nurse told her it would be a couple of hours and then she'd be done.

Bree nodded and then the nurse left. Phil watched her with an expression she couldn't name.

She turned her head, tilting it slightly, "what's on your mind?" She asked.

He shook his head, "you're so strong. I don't know if I could do all of this."

"I'm doing it for you." She murmured.

He closed his eyes for a moment before kissing her fingers, "please do this for yourself too."

She nodded, "I'm doing this for us."

"That's better."

_but I know I must go on_

_although hurt I must be strong _

_because inside I know that many feel this way_

_children don't stop dancing _

_believe you can fly_

_away...away_

It was her second treatment, and this time Phil wasn't there, he was back on the road. He hadn't wanted to leave, but he knew he had to. Bree was okay with it, she'd been to chemo before without him, this would be the same.

Except she'd be there completely alone this time.

When Phil was on the road and she had to do chemo, her mother would go with her.

But her mother was back in Missouri, hopefully patching things up with her husband.

Bree had spoken with her mom the night before, but Angela hadn't said anything about Ben. She'd just asked Bree about the trial and being back in Chicago and then they had hung up. Her relationship with her mother had gone back to normal. Conversations of the shallowest nature over the phone. That was all they'd had for years. Then whens he was diagnosed they'd had those couple of weeks were they were brought together.

Then the fighting had begun and Angela was pulling away and couldn't even look at Bree.

They were back to normal now, where they'd begun.

Bree was okay with that.

Lee called her all the time though, twice a week was his new schedule when in the past, they were lucky if they talked to each other once every two or three months.

It made her smile when Lee called though, because when he did, he put Ethan on the phone and she got to talk to him and ask him about his day and what he was doing. It was a sweet little gift to get to be close to her nephew and her brother. One that she hadn't expected.

Gifts called to mind the letters Phil had given her at Christmas. She had yet to read a single one. She wasn't ready yet, she guessed. One day she would be ready, and she'd read them.

She signed in with the secretary, who told her to proceed to the treatment room, that several of the other patients had already arrived and were beginning their doses.

Breann walked into the room, shifting her purse's strap on her shoulder as she searched the room for a chair.

She found an empty one near the door that led to the bathrooms. In the chair next to it sat a little girl with a pink knit beanie on her head, probably to hide a bald scalp beneath.

The little girl looked up at Bree as she sat down, huge blue eyes framed in tiny lashes. The girl smiled hesitantly and Bree smiled back. With that little reassurance the girl's smile grew.

"Hi, I'm Hannah." She announced proudly, sticking out her tiny hand, her little fingernails painted a dainty pale pink.

"I'm Bree." She replied, taking the small hand and shaking it gently.

"My mama brought me here to see if the doctor can make me better. But I feel fine right now." The little girl said, jumping into a conversation that Bree hadn't expected to arise.

"That's why I'm here too," Bree replied, looking down at the little girl. She was petite, tiny, but with a frailness which was a dead giveaway to what really caused her smallness. Cancer.

"Is your daughter sick too?"

Bree felt the tears well up behind her eyes at the little girl's innocent question. She cleared her throat before replying, "no, I'm the one who's sick."

The little girl frowned, "no girl should live without her mommy. I hope the doctor makes you all better."

"Thank you," Bree whispered.

The little girl just smiled before turning in her seat and picking up a teddy bear.

"This is Louie. He always makes me feel better when I hold him. Maybe he'll make you feel better." Hannah suggested.

Bree couldn't help but smile before she took the bear with a nod.

"Oh I'm sorry, is my daughter bothering you?" A woman asked as she walked over. She had dirty blond hair and the same blue eyes as Hannah. Bree instantly knew this was the little girl's mother.

"No, no, it's fine." Bree replied with a slight shake of her head and a smile. "She was just seeing if hugging Louie would make me feel better."

The woman let out a strangled chuckle. "I wish it were that easy."

"Me too."

"Are you here for the trial?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm Breann Thompson." She offered her hand.

The woman took it, "Lacy Fulton."

"It's nice to meet you."

"You too." She looked over Bree, "what kind?"

"Breast cancer, it spread, bone and cervical now too. Hers?"

The woman nodded, "Lymphoma."

Bree nodded, "how long?"

"She started showing symptoms when she was four, she was officially diagnosed when she was five. She did chemo for six months, it didn't do much, so we've been looking for other forms of treatment. And so we're here now."

"Chemo didn't work for me either," Bree said, "it was really my only shot, so they could do surgery. It's kind of a miracle that I'm in this trial."

The woman smiled at her, "do you have kids?"

"No, but I'd like to."

"I hope you get the chance to have a child. It really opens your eyes." She glanced down at her daughter who was oblivious to their conversation, playing with Louie.

"She's adorable," Bree murmured, nodding toward Hannah.

"She's what keeps me going most days. I swear she's absolutely fine some days, like the cancer's just gone. And then the next day she'll be sick and I'll think it was stupid of me to think a miracle would happen."

"It's not stupid to hope for a miracle."

"Not stupid, just unrealistic."

Bree understood exactly how Lacy felt.

_a thousand times before_

_I've wondered if there's something more, something more_

_I feel its gonna rain like this for days,_

_so let it rain down and wash everything away_

_I hope that tomorrow the sun will shine_

_with every tomorrow comes another life_

_I feel it's gonna rain, for days and days, I feel it's gonna rain_

Over the next two weeks Bree and Lacy became close and decided that their friendship didn't have to be contained to the treatment room. The two women met for coffee or lunch, Bree would babysit Hannah when Lacy needed to get out.

During that time, Bree found out Hannah's father was stationed in Iraq and had been gone for over a year now but was due back in the States soon.

Not only had Bree become close with Lacy, but she'd always formed an amazing connection to little Hannah. The girl was strong, stubborn and absolutely adorable. Breann could see a lot of herself in the seven year old.

Breann leaned her elbow on the armrest of the chair, listening to Hannah's story about one of the few days she actually got to be in a school setting.

"And these girls were _mean_." Hannah accompanied the emphasized word with a exaggerated expression that made Bree smile despite the topic of their conversation.

"When it comes to fighting at school, there's one rule you have to remember." Bree said.

Hannah's blue eyes widened as she stared up at Bree. In the short time she'd known the older woman, she'd become someone she looked up to, someone she really liked. "What's that?"

"Never," Bree paused, "never _ever _throw the first punch. You let them hit you first. Then you really show them who's boss. Got it?"

Hannah nodded rapidly.

Bree leaned in, "don't tell your mom I told you that," she whispered.

Hannah mimed zipping her lips, locking them and throwing away the key.

"'Atta girl," Bree said with a smile, holding her hand up for a high five.

"Where's your mama?" Bree asked after a couple minutes.

"Daddy called."

"Oh, well that's good. Are you going to talk to him?" Bree asked.

Hannah shrugged as she picked up Louie.

Breann blinked, the teddy bear reminded her of something.

"You know what Hannah, I think Louie needs a friend."

Hannah tilted her head as she turned to look at Bree.

Bree leaned forward, opening up her large purse and from it produced a stuffed rabbit.

Hannah's eyes lit up immediately.

"This is Lily. She was mine when I was a little girl."

She'd had the rabbit since she was three, when her grandma had bought it for her. She brought it with her wherever she traveled, it was always in the same pocket in her suitcase.

Hannah stared at the stuffed rabbit and then up at Bree, as if asking permission to touch it.

"I want you to have her. She'll probably have more fun with you than she does being in my suitcase all the time."

"Really?" Hannah asked.

"Of course," Bree smiled before her face took on a childish expression, "oh, I-I think she likes you," she said before she feigned the rabbit coming to life and attacking Hannah with kisses. The little girl let out a peal of giggles that had Bree laughing as well.

Phil stood in the doorway of the treatment room, watching Bree and the little girl. A sad smile curled his lips as he watched the two interact. It was such a pure, innocent, adorable moment. If he had seen this interaction a year ago, he would've taken it as a glimpse into his future, where Bree would be playing with their daughter.

Instead they were just two cancer patients ignoring the fear of their situations for a moment, Bree saving a young child from the harshness of the disease and helping her have fun.

Bree looked like she was having fun as well.

Phil had missed that expression on her face.

A woman stepped into the room beside him and he moved, since he was standing in the way.

"Sorry," he muttered.

The woman turned and looked him over. "You must be Phil." She said, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Umm, how did you know that?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Bree's told me a lot about you." She then motioned over to Bree and the girl, "that's my daughter with Bree, Hannah. God, my little girl loves Bree. Doesn't ever stop talking about her." She laughed, "she's been a real help these past couple weeks." The woman lifted her hand, "oh right, my name's Lacy."

"And you already know my name," he said with a laugh.

The woman nodded before heading over to her daughter.

Hannah looked up at her mom, pausing for a moment from her play with Bree, listening to her mother.

"Your daddy says he loves you, he misses you, and he'll see you really soon."

Bree leaned back, setting the rabbit down as Lacy spoke to her daughter. Bree glanced up, feeling someone's eyes on her, and found Phil standing a few feet away, watching her.

A smile spread on her lips slowly and he approached her.

He leaned down, bracing one hand on the arm of the chair, and kissed her. He'd missed her the past two weeks that he'd been on the road. It had felt like forever.

He pressed his forehead against hers after their kiss ended, "I've missed you," he whispered.

"And I've missed you."

Suddenly, someone was tugging on Bree's sleeve and the brunette looked down to see Hannah's blue eyes looking up at her expectantly.

Phil looked down at the little girl too before squatting down so he was at her level.

"Hey there, I'm Phil."

"I'm Hannah. Why are you kissing Bree?" The little girl asked, totally oblivious and innocent.

Phil chuckled, "she asks the tough questions," he joked. Lacy and Bree both laughed, even as Bree's cheeks reddened slightly.

"I was kissing Bree because she's the love of my life and I haven't seen her in a really long time." He answered, looking back at the little girl.

Hannah nodded slowly, as if digesting his answer to see if it was appropriate. Then she gave one final nod of approval before turning and picking up the stuffed rabbit Bree had given her, "you be Lily.'

Bree laughed as Phil took the stuffed rabbit and played with Hannah, who had Louie.

Lacy placed a hand on Bree's shoulder and Bree glanced up at the woman who nodded with lifted eyebrows.

"He's sweet," Lacy mouthed to the younger woman.

"He's amazing," she mouthed back and Lacy grinned.

_He'll be an amazing father one day_, Bree thought to herself.

She took a deep breath and let it wash away the worry, the anger, the unfairness she felt that she would never see Phil playing stuffed animals with their daughter. But watching him play with Hannah was close enough.

It would have to be enough for her, it was all she would get.

_I can see clearly now the rain is gone_

_I can see all obstacles in my way_

_Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind_

_it's gonna be a bright, bright sunshinin' day_

_oh yes, I can make it now the pain is gone_

_all of the bad feelings have disappeared_

_here is the rainbow I've been praying for_

_it's gonna be a bright, bright sunshinin' day_

Four weeks. Four long weeks of treatments, injections and all the other medical nonsense she had to go through.

Bree had an appointment with Dr. Jorgenson, who was going to give her news on her condition now that she was halfway through the trial. She was going to meet up with Phil afterward. His flight would be landing while she was in her appointment so they just decided to meet after back at their apartment.

As she walked out of Dr. Jorgenson's office she couldn't help the beaming smile on her face.

February was starting off great. The air was that of late winter, still a cold crispness to it, but nothing unbearable. She still wore a hoodie, one of Phil's, one that held his scent. It was one of her favorites that she had stolen months ago before he left for the road. He'd called her up later in that week and asked her if she had seen it. She'd been wearing it during their phone call and had lied to him about not knowing where it was.

When he'd come home, she was wearing it and she was busted.

She flung open their front door and Phil glanced up from where he had just flopped down on the couch.

"They're shrinking!"

"What?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing, not catching on immediately.

"They're shrinking!"

"What's shrinking?"

"My, my tumors are shrinking. The medicine's working!"

Phil was suddenly on his feet, and she was running to him, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her, arms around her waist, spinning with her momentum, holding her close to him. Feeling hope burn anew in his chest.

"It's working," she murmured over and over again until her voice was choked off by her tears.

"The treatment's working," he sobbed into her neck.

They'd cried many times in the past several months but never had they been happy tears like the ones that fell down their cheeks as Bree threw her arms around Phil, still clutching the test results and x-ray picture in her hand tightly.

_Look in my eyes, what do you see?_

_Not just the color_

_Look inside of me_

_Tell me all you need and I will try_

_I will try_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone_

_I'm going to hold you closer than before_

_and when I kiss your soul, your body'll be free_

_I'll be free for you anytime_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone_

_Free for you, whenever you need_

_We'll be free together baby_

_free together baby_

_I'm going to love you more than anyone_

She hadn't really believed Dr. Jorgenson that her tumors were shrinking. Sure, he had shown her comparisons between her x-rays from before she started the trial to ones they'd taken just days before, but it just seemed to surreal to be real.

She didn't believe him when he said it, when he showed it to her.

She didn't believe it when Dr. Salazar called her and was trying to hold back her tears of happiness.

Still didn't believe Dr. Jorgenson when she told Matt who let out a yell over the phone. And in the locker room he got several strange looks.

She didn't believe it until the afternoon where she was making herself a sandwich. As she tried to pull open the Tupperware that the deli ham was contained in a sudden pain throbbed from her finger tip and then there was red spilling on the counter.

"What the-" her curse never came as she held her hand up in front of her, turning it slightly.

There it was, the real proof. The nail on her right hand middle finger was completely gone, leaving behind only puckered, red, angry flesh, blood welling at the surface.

She should've been crying out in pain, or scrambling for a band-aid, but instead she was laughing, laughing so hard tears were coming to her eyes, laughing so loudly that Phil ran into the room, completely baffled and looking more than worried.

"Look, look! He was right! It really is working!" She said, gasping for breath, tears still rolling down her cheeks sporadically.

Phil grabbed her hand, his eyes instantly going to the nail-less finger.

He smiled at how ridiculous her response was.

"C'mon, let's get this cleaned up," he said, leading her into the bathroom where he disinfected the skin before wrapping a band-aid around it. He kissed her bandaged finger before placing a hand on her neck and kissing her mouth sweetly.

She believed it even more when she woke up the next morning and found a chunk of her hair missing.

When Phil returned from the grocery store she handed him the electric razor and he just nodded in understanding before following her into the bathroom.

The next day, as she leaned over the toilet she slammed her fist against the porcelain.

"Fuck, I get it! I believe it now! Make it stop," she groaned, wanting the nausea to go away.

Phil knelt next to her, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back.

The next couple days were filled with an onslaught of side-effects. She called it the treatments revenge for not being grateful and believing the x-rays immediately.

Phil just stayed beside her, tried to be supportive and helpful in any way that he could.

He walked into their bedroom later that day and immediately saw a flash of movement out the corner of his eye. He turned and started at the full length mirror that stood in the corner of the room. Then he saw the door to the walk-in closet closing slowly.

"Bree?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

He pushed open the door to the closet to find Bree in a state of undress, or re-dress, he wasn't quite sure.

She held her bra to her chest, chewing her lip.

He tilted his head to the side, trying to calm down his body's instantaneous reaction to seeing her practically naked.

"What are you doing?"

"N-nothing." She tugged her jeans up the rest of the way, buttoning and zipping them up.

He raised an eyebrow, "sure doesn't look like nothing."

"I-I..." she didn't want to tell him that she'd been staring at her own naked reflection, hating it. Hating the way you could see every one of her ribs, and no matter how much she ate, she could never gain the wait back to make them disappear. She hated that her breasts had gotten even smaller because of her weight-loss. She hated the hollowness of her face and her lack of curves. She hated the paleness of her skin, her bald head. She hated the damn tubes sticking out of her chest.

She was ugly.

He studied the stricken look on her face, saw the self-loathing in her eyes.

"I know what you're thinking..." he started slowly.

"No, no I don't think you do."

"You're beautiful Bree."

And just like that, he had known _exactly _what she was thinking.

She felt the tears prick her eyes as she shook her head, "don't say that. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying, Bree. You ar—,"

She cut him off. "I'm ugly, hideous, disgusting. I can't even look at myself." She hoked her bra before reaching down and picking up her shirt, pulling it on.

He didn't know why, he knew she was being unreasonable, having a mood swing—another side effect of the treatment—but he snapped, his anger overwhelming him. He wasn't angry at her, per se, he was angry at what she could see.

He grabbed her arms, looked her straight in the eyes, "you are the most beautiful woman I know. I'm not just saying that, Bree. I know you may not feel that way but—."

"I don't feel that way, because it's not that way. I-I," she shook her head, at a loss of words.

He cornered her against the wall.

"I'm going to give you five minutes to give yourself the pity party that you feel you need. When those five minutes are up, I'll be waiting in our bedroom, and I will show you how beautiful you are, I will make you believe it," his words were spoken directly into her ear, sending a heat threw her that only Phil could produce.

She swallowed and when she opened her eyes, he was gone, the door to the closet closed.

She hesitated, took several deep breaths and wiped at her eyes.

There was no mirror in the closet, but she straightened her clothes to the best of her ability.

She waited a while longer before turning to the door and slowly pushing it open, stepping out silently, looking a little self-conscious.

"Come here," Phil murmured from his perch on the end of the bed. Their bed, in their apartment. The place they'd shared for two years now. Their home, where they were safe to say whatever they wanted and not be judged. A place where they'd shared each other intimately and personally several times, not just on a sexual level.

She'd stood before him just minutes ago and told him she felt ugly.

Phil couldn't see Bree in any other way but womanly. Utterly seductive by design and description. She'd been his demise since that first day when she'd called him out on his judgmental attitude and forced him to not judge a book by its cover.

Hesitantly, Bree walked from the closet door toward the bed, hands fiddling with the bottom hem of her deep blue, loose-fitting tank top, she stopped between his knees, teeth wreaking havoc on her bottom lip.

His left hand rested on her hip, while he lifted his right hand to cup her face, his thumb smoothing across her bottom lip, stopping her destruction of the soft, succulent skin.

The smile he sent her then was tender and bright in the dim room, his anger now gone. "I love you."

She swallowed and nodded once, watching him with big eyes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the hand that cupped her cheek slid downward, tracing a searing descent down the column of her neck, his fingers fluttering against her hammering pulse before continuing on. He traced her collar bone with his fingertips as well as his eyes, his index beginning the trail before letting his thumb finish the path until he reached the strap of her tank top. His hand then moved downward and he pressed the flat of his hand over her heart and his eyes lifted to hers once more.

She found herself breathing heavily just from his light touches. He'd barely even touched her anywhere remotely intimate and yet she was quickly melting as he evoked a slow simmering heat from the center of her body.

His thumb stroked the fabric of her shirt, over her heart and she wondered if he could feel it beat rapidly beneath his palm. Slowly, he moved his hand across her chest until it was covering the tubing of her port.

His olive eyes took her in slowly, from her head to her feet. He loved every inch of what he saw. Before Bree, if someone would've asked him what his image of a perfect woman would be, he would've described Bree. Just, the woman standing before him was a million times better than what he could ever conjure up in his mind, or describe in words. She was perfect. Perfect in image, perfect for him, perfect in his life, perfect in his arms, perfect in his eyes in all ways.

His gaze lifted when he felt her cool fingers wrap around his hand which was still over her port. Slowly, she tugged his fingers to her lips, brushing them along the soft flesh of her bottom lip before she kissed his palm.

She then moved to lean forward, reaching out for the bottom hem of his shirt but he quickly stopped her. Phil pressed his forehead to hers and took her face in his hands, "tonight is just for you."

"I don't—" he cut her off with a kiss, slow and sensuous. An electric tingle traveled down her spine and her body felt like it was on fire.

"I don't tell you it enough, I don't show you enough. But you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I realize how cliché that is, but it's the fucking truth Bree. Sometimes I just stare at you because I can't believe it." His hands slid, cupping her neck, fingers at the back of her skull, thumbs stroking the column of her neck. She slowly dropped to her knees.

"You are the most precious thing I've ever held before in my arms. I've never been more afraid of losing something than I am of losing you. Even before all this cancer shit happened, I've always been afraid you'd wake up one day and realize you could find a guy a million times better than me." He chuckled slightly, "and it wouldn't be hard, trust me, because you're god awfully beautiful." He smiled at her, a glassiness to his eyes that she hadn't expected, "but you haven't. You're still here, and if you're still here every morning then I know I have to keep showing you how much I love you, how much I appreciate you, how much I think of you. How much I don't deserve you." Her heart jumped in her chest at his words as his thumbs stroked her smooth, pale skin.

"So tonight, just let me show you all those things, okay?" His eyes stared into her with an intent honesty that shook her. He wasn't going to be dissuaded, he had already set his mind to this.

She nodded dumbly, licking her lips. One corner of his mouth twitched up but before she could see his full smile his lips were on hers. The kiss was slow, lingering as he dragged her bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. He turned and kissed the corner of her mouth as his hands found her waist and slid upward slowly until they were hooked under her arms.

"Mm, stand up," he murmured in between kisses.

Bree frowned slightly but did as told, slowly raising back up to her normal height. As she stood, Phil leaned in, letting his lips and hands skim her body, sending a shiver shooting down her spine and then resonating out to her fingers and toes.

His hands slid just beneath the edge of her shirt, stroking the warm skin of her sides. He curled the fingers of his left hand into the fabric and slowly began to tug it upward, a centimeter at a time. His lips followed along, placing kisses on the skin he just revealed, the fingertips of his left hand tracing their own separate patterns on her other side. He stopped, fisting the part of the shirt he had pulled up in his hand and kissed her stomach softly.

Bree's eyelids fluttered and she felt like she should do something with her hands but didn't know what so they just hung at her sides, fists clenching and unclenching.

She let out a soft moan as his teeth scraped her flat stomach, her toes curling, fists clenching. "Phil," her voice was a breathless plea though she wasn't sure what she was begging for. Or maybe she did know and was just afraid to voice it.

He smirked against her skin, enjoying the way he could feel her tense up when he kissed a particularly sensitive spot. Moving back slightly he lifted her shirt up more and she took the hint that he wanted it to be removed. She gripped the hem and pulled it over her head and let the fabric fall from her hand, landing soundlessly on the floor.

Phil's eyes locked with Bree's again. His hands took their places on her hips and he tugged her closer. Her eyes squeezed shut, eyelashes pressed to her cheeks, as his tongue laved at the hollow of her pelvic bone, his hands trailing down to grip the sides of her thighs.

Deftly, his finger undid the button of her jeans and she felt the release of the constricting material immediately.

Her naked lower abdomen became his canvas, and his lips his brush as he swept kisses along her skin. Testing different angles and looking at her in different lights, watching her from different perspectives as he tried something new. Here she was his beautiful piece of art that he could study and adore and worship as long as he wanted.

She shook as his hot breath fanned over her skin, dangerously close to a heated part of her. She wet her lips which were dry and couldn't seem to retain an ounce of moisture at the moment. His thumbs stroked circles on her hips as he kissed just above the hem of her lacy underwear, his nose drawing a cool line against her skin that made goosebumps rise along her flesh.

He steadied her as she kicked her jeans off, she felt clumsy and certain she'd fall if she let them stay wrapped around her ankles. He realized she was stalling, that she was nervous and anxious.

He slid one hand around her, splaying his fingers at the small of her back, "you don't need to be worried Bree."  
"I, I know. I just..."

"You don't need to feel self-conscious either."

She bit her lip. He'd hit the nail right on the head.

Sliding his hands up her thighs his thumbs hooked under the thin lacy strips that crossed over her skin. "I love you." He murmured before slowly lowering the material.

His mouth was attentive and he was perfect, lifting her slowly, building her up and catching her as she fell with his name diving from her lips, hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

He lay with her wrapped up in his arms after, her head on his tattooed chest, resting above his heart. He kissed her forehead, and she ducked her head, trying to hide her blush.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," she muttered against his neck.

"Mmm, that was rewarding all in itself," he said, kissing her shoulder.

"I love you so much."

"Say no more," he murmured, kissing her soundly on the mouth, rolling on top of her with a smirk. She chuckled softly against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, enjoying his closeness.

"Happy Valentine's Day, by the way," he murmured hotly in her ear.

She grinned even though he couldn't see her face from his current position.

She shook her head at him, "back at you," she murmured.

_Now something on the surface it stings_

_that something on the surface it kind of makes me nervous_

_who says that you deserve this_

_and what kind of god would serve this? _

_We will cure this dirty old disease_

_if you've got the poison I've got the remedy_

_the remedy is the experience, it is a dangerous liaison _

_I say the comedy is that is serious. Which is a strange enough new play on words_

_I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend the rest of your nights with the light on_

_so shine the light on all of your friends because it all amounts to nothing in the end_

Phil drove off to the airport later that night and Bree was alone again in their apartment for the next few days. Chaleen and Chez stopped by, bringing her lunch one day. And Colt came over for dinner one night. So she wasn't completely alone. But she hadn't heard from Lacy and Hannah all week, which was strange.

She was eager to see the mother and daughter when she arrived at the treatment center. She signed in and then headed directly into the treatment room.

She couldn't hold in the relieved sigh that she exhaled when her eyes landed on Hannah, who was curled up on her chair, wrapped in a pink blanket, clutching both Louie and Lucy to her chest.

Bree sat down in her seat and after a few moment of silence Lacy looked up at her.

The blond looked tire. More than that, she looked exhausted, completely drained.

"What's wrong?" Bree asked.

Lacy's smile was sad, "it's not working. Dr. Jorgenson says to give it a couple more weeks but..." Lacy shook her head.

Bree looked down at Hannah. She'd never seen the little girl so quiet, eyes dropping and blank, breathing shallow, looking smaller than ever.

"Hey buddy," Bree murmured, brushing her hand along the little girl's scalp. Her hat had fallen off, but unlike she usually did, she hadn't retrieved it and hurriedly put it back on.

Hannah looked up at Bree with dull, sickly eyes. The eyes of a dying child.

Bree's heart constricted, "come here honey," she murmured and Hannah slowly lifted her head.

Bree took the little girl into her arms, pulling her across the small space between their two chairs and Bree placed the little girl in her lap. She tucked the blanket around Hannah and then rocked her gently until the girl's eyes closed, her head resting gently on Bree's shoulder.

She watched the little girl sleep, holding her tenderly, her heart racing. Every few moments her eyes would fixate on Hannah's chest, to make sure it was still moving with her labored breathing.

Bree felt the tears, but held them back.

Lacy sat and watched her daughter sadly. She'd known when Hannah had woken up that morning that it would be one of her bad days. They'd had them before though and Lacy was determined to get through it.

Bree's heart broke for the little girl in her arms. No child should ever have to suffer like this.

/

"Bree? I'm home," Phil called as he stepped into their home the next day, a Friday.

He glanced around the kitchen, it was empty.

"Bree," he called out again, his voice suddenly hesitant.

The living room was empty so he headed down the hallway toward their bedroom.

He heard the sound of sobs echo faintly down the hall.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom and that was where he found Bree.

Her shoulder was leaning against the wall as she stood, her forehead touching the paint as well, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Tracks where tears had fallen marred her cheeks, her eyes looking tired like she hadn't slept in a day. Suddenly, she punched the wall with the side of her balled up fist.

He jumped, he hadn't expected it.

Phil didn't know what to say as Bree cried, her fist slamming into the wall again.

"She's just a little girl, Phil. It's not fair, why would this happen to her? She has a whole life ahead of her. She shouldn't be sick and sad all the time and in a hospital where she can't run around like a normal kid. What the fuck is wrong with..." and she fell into sobs, her forehead leaning against the wall as she slid down to her knees.

"Why should I be getting better, when she's just getting worse?"

Phil knelt down next to her, hand squeezing her shoulder.

She looked up at him, "it's not fair, Phil. I should be the one dying, not her."

He pulled her into his arms, stroking her back as she cried, having nothing really to say because he did and didn't agree with her all at the same time.

_You're afraid in ways that I can't comprehend_

_I do not pretend to live inside your head_

_wrapped up in darkness_

_slow dancing with despair_

_you look so beautiful and lost  
_

_but don't turn out the light this time_

_don't turn out the light on me tonight_

_spinning harder now, you seem confused_

_I close my eyes, but I'm still watching you_

_If you're broken, I will gather up your pieces from the filthy ground._

Phil returned home from the road the next week in time to join her for her treatment.

His hand was wrapped around hers as they walked into the treatment room.

Suddenly, she stopped moving, she froze in place, refused to keep walking.

He turned to look at her, a question on his lips, but then he saw her face.

Pale, completely drained of color, chin quivering, mouth slightly open.

She turned, her hand wrenching out of his.

She approached a nurse, "excuse me, do you know where Lacy Fulton and her daughter are?" she asked, hand gripping the counter of the nurse's station.

The nurse looked at Bree sympathetically. All the nurses there knew how close Bree was to Lacy and Hannah. But the nurse was also confused.

The nurse hesitated, "I-I'm sorry, I thought someone had already told you."

"Told me what?" Bree asked.

Phil's stomach sank, he knew what the nurse was going to say.

"Little Hannah died, last week."

Before Phil could catch her, Bree hit the floor, her knees making contact with the ground painfully.

Phil dropped down, trying to wrap her arms around him. She pushed him away as she cried.

"No. No, no, no. No!" She sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself. There was a wrenching inside of her chest, reminiscent to the one she'd felt when her grandma died, but this one was much fresher, so much more raw. It hurt, dammit it hurt her.

She felt like she couldn't breathe, someone tried to hold her but she pushed them away, leaned her shoulder against the nurse's station, needing some kind of support.

Phil knelt next to her, watching her, but not touching her. He gave her her space.

"I need to go," she said suddenly and then she was gone.

"What about..." Phil trailed off. He glanced at the nurses.

"We'll reschedule for tomorrow," the nurse said

Phil nodded thankfully at her before following after Bree.

He found her, sitting behind the steering wheel of his car, still crying.

He pulled open the door and knelt down on the asphalt, turning her to face him. Her feet fell out of the car and she looked up at him.

"Why her Phil? Why did she have to die? Why are my tumors shrinking?" She shook her head, "what makes me any more important than Hannah? What makes it okay that my life has more worth than hers?"

He didn't have answers for her, he never would.

"I don't know Bree, shhh," he murmured soothingly, massaging her scalp, "I don't know."

"My life's not worth it Phil. I-I just want this pain to go away, I want it to be over. I don't think I can take it anymore."

The words shocked him. She'd never said anything like this before, Bree wasn't the type of person to ever even consider suicide.

His hands suddenly cupped her face, holding her tightly, forcing her to look in his eyes.

"Don't you dare talk like that. Don't ever say that. You mean _everything _to me. You are _everything _to me. You cannot take yourself away from me, I won't let you."

She just stared at him blankly, and he had no idea how he was going to get through to her.

"There's gotta be some reason you're getting better Bree, there's a deeper meaning to it all. We just don't know it yet." He whispered.

"You can't go yet, because you haven't done what you were put on this Earth to do yet. Hannah did her job, and it was time for her suffering to end," he nodded, "don't you agree its better that she's not suffering anymore. I know you hated seeing her like that."

More tears seeped from her eyes, "I hated it, I _hated _it."

"She's okay now, she's at peace. No more pain, she couldn't take it anymore. But you," his voice cracked as he stroked her cheek, repositioning his hands on her face, "you Bree, you are so much stronger. You can last a while longer, until it's really time for you to go. It's not time yet and you know it."

She nodded before falling forward into him. He caught her and pulled her into his lap as he turned so his back resting against the car. He sat on the pavement, holding her, letting her exhaust herself with her tears.

Silently, he wiped away his own tears and for a moment let relief wash over him before dismissing the selfish emotion and focusing back on Bree.

He might have been lying to her before when he said it wasn't her time yet. He didn't know, maybe it was, but he wasn't ready. It was selfish of him, but he couldn't help it. When it came to Bree, he was selfish.

_Standing_

_on the edge of forever_

_at the start of whatever_

_shouting love at the world_

_there's progress now_

_where there once was none_

_where there once was, ah_

_then everything came along_

_although no one understood, we were holding back the flood_

_learning how to dance the rain_

_there was more of them than _

_now they'll never dance again_

Phil had kept a close eye on her after she found out the news about Hannah.

Lacy had called her the next day to tell her about the funeral plans. Bree promised she would attend, and she had, placing Lily in the small casket next to the pale little girl. Phil had been right, Hannah did look like she was peace.

Bree wondered if that was how she would look when she was dead. Pale, peaceful and absent.

She guessed she'd never know.

Another one of life's questions gone unanswered for her.

Phil might have thought that she hadn't heard or retained his words that fateful day, but she had. She'd heard him loud and clear and she believed him.

So even as the loss of Hannah crippled her physically and emotionally, mentally she was trying to stay positive.

She was going to live past the expiration date the doctors had given her. She was determined to do so.

She had to figure out why she was placed on this earth, there must've been a reason. She couldn't have been born for nothing. There had to be some higher purpose than to die young of cancer.

She knew Hannah had had a purpose, a reason for being alive and for being sick.

She'd been born and gotten sick so that she could come into Breann's life and show her that even if she did die young, she wouldn't miss out completely on being like a parent to someone.

For the short month that she'd known Hannah, she'd felt like she should've been her daughter. She was exactly how Bree had imagined her own daughter to be.

Hannah was sent to be Bree's lifesaver, her new hope, her replacement for a future she'd never get to.

Bree loved that little girl and wished she had been her own.

_**/**_

John clapped Phil on the back with a beaming, dimpled smile as they headed down the hallways of an arena to the locker room.

"How's Bree doing man?" He asked.

Phil smiled, an easy smile that didn't have to be forced, with no underlying dread.

"She's doing better. The treatment's working, her tumors are shrinking."

John's blue eyes widened, "that—that's great news!"

As John pushed the locker room door open he announced the news to their friends, "Bree's tumors are shrinking!"

"What?" Mike's expression was disbelieving.

"No way," Bryan instantly broke into a smile.

"Way," Phil confirmed with a nod as the locker room broke out into cheers.

/

"Today's your last day, huh?" The nurse asked as she hooked Bree up.

Bree nodded with a smile, "Yep, eighth and final treatment."

"Well that's good," the nurse said, a smile on her pink lips

Bree nodded in agreement.

This treatment was a miracle, a great gift given to her. It gave her time, gave her hope, gave her what she needed to keep going for as long as she could. It had given her Hannah as well.

There was progress, she was making progress. Her life wasn't nearing its end anymore, she'd at least get over a year more, when she'd thought before she'd only have six more months or so at this point in time.

As she looked around, she realized not everyone was as lucky as her. For others, the treatment wasn't working at all, or it was working slowly, or they'd already given up and left the trial.

Or they'd died, like little Hannah.

It still stung to think about the little girl.

Bree decided that if she ever had a daughter—though she knew it was highly unlikely, and that was okay—she would name her Hannah and she would want her to be as perfect as the little girl she met on her second day of the trial that saved her life.

_She wakes and takes her place in line_

_and never bothers to ask why the mirror sheds no light at all_

_the days turn into lesser days until there's only night_

_the light it wouldn't help she's too far gone_

_her time is up it's five o'clock_

_it never stops_

She feels it one day.

The sinking of her stomach, the stinging under her skin, in her organs. A curling malice that constricted her, a heavy ache in her bones.

She wondered if this is how her grandma felt when she realized it too.

She should've known better that she couldn't escape it.

Her fears were confirmed when she and Phil sat down across from Dr. Jorgenson.

The blond haired man looked regretful, he didn't want to speak the words that he was about to.

"I'm afraid Ms. Thompson," he reverted to formalities in this situation, depersonalizing her, "that your tumors have..." his eyes dropped from hers for a split second, his jaw clenching, "they've doubled in size."

"Doubled," she murmured with a resolute nod.

Doubled.

Back at square one.

_and she say please, and she says please_

_and she says please, watch over me. _

_I watch her slowly make her way_

_down a road she shouldn't take_

_she always ends where she began._

* * *

**_So, I bawled my eyes out writing this chapter. _**

**_Comments, questions, concerns? Let me know in a review :) _**

_**Vote on my poll please :)** _


	8. I'll Cover You

_**So, only two more chapters after this and...just in warning, keep the tissues handy. I know some of you are more prone to tears than others so I'm giving fair warning. I started crying while writing some parts of this chapter, sooo...but that's just me. **_

_**I should be studying for finals, but instead I'm writing this for you guys. Oh well. **_

_**Thank you to my amazing reviewers: **DeathDaisy**, **KiwiStar**, **nic-002001**, **SaintVille**, **FailSnap**, **CRAZY NERD**, **Pinayprincesa **and **Addy. _

_**I'd love to hear from more of you. Questions, concerns, comments, whatever you'd like. When did you cry? When did you get mad? What made you smile? I love reading reviews. **_

_**If there's one song that I think completely sums up this fic and the relationship between Phil and Bree, it would be I'll Cover You (Reprise) from the musical RENT. It is an amazing song and the lyrics are breathtakingly simple and beautiful. It's one of my favorite songs ever (and that's saying a lot for me). If you've never heard it, I suggest you go give it a listen. I don't have a preference between the Broadway or the motion picture version, I love them both. But anyways, I think it just epitomizes Phil and Bree and their journey together. **_

_**Onward and upward,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel**_

_**Songs Used In This Chapter (In Order): Lightning Crashes by Live, "I've Been" from Next To Normal (Musical), Stand In The Rain by Superchic(k)**_**, ****_Is It Raining At Your House by Brad Paisley, Crying In the Rain by Whitesnake, One Thing by FingerEleven, Walk On Water Or Drown by Mayday Parade, Our Song by Ron Pope, Down by blink-182, and I'll Cover You (Reprise) from R.E.N.T. _**

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter VIII: I'll Cover You**_

_**-Spring-**_

_Oh now feel it comin' back again_

_Like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind_

_forces pullin' from the center of the earth again_

_I can feel it_

She can't quite figure out why, but Lee is there when they get off the plane, back in Missouri. Her parent's had already heard the news, over the phone.

The treatment had stopped working. Her tumors had not only grown back to their original size but had surpassed that, doubling in size. Bree's deadline was back on and they were out of options.

Sure, all the time someone told her she could get into another clinical trial, and that one could work, hold off the disease for a couple months longer. Give her some more time.

She was beginning to think these trials weren't all they were hyped up to be. All these reassurances they were spouting were baseless lies and half-truths that no one believed any more. Bree certainly didn't believe them.

She didn't believe them, and they didn't believe her when she told them she could feel it.

The blackness as it moved through her, tearing at her frayed edges, sucking her into that vortex of desperation and disease. One day it would consume her, it would take her, she knew now, she could not escape its gravity.

She would bite her lip and take everything anyone said with a grain of salt. She wouldn't voice her own opinions. She would only receive a tumultuous backlash if she told them how she felt.

She couldn't deny it, not to herself. She knew she was dying. She could feel the cancer grow back, taking root, placing it's belongings and faculties back into their rightful positions and holds in her body.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that death lived inside of you. Knowing that it was just biding its time till it stole your final moment away from you and you would have no choice but to concede. You knew it was there, you knew not when it would strike, but you knew it would.

Eventually.

/

Lee is there, where he hasn't been for the past decade, at his sister's side.

He doesn't know what right he has to be there now, he knows he doesn't deserve the place, but he's there and she lets him stay and he's so, so very grateful.

Simon is reluctantly at their parent's house. The dying were not the type of people he liked to surround himself with, neither were the mourning.

And that's what his family was, they were mourning.

And she was still alive. He could only imagine how terribly decimated his family would be after she died.

He would just have to wait and be the unmoved rock he was in most situations. Some would say he is cold-hearted and detached, but he knew a long time ago his sister would die young. He remembered the day very well when he decided they were opposites and nothing could reconcile them.

_"It's just a little thunder, Simon," Bree told her brother teasingly. "You're not gonna get hurt for running in the rain." _

_ "Mom's gonna kill us."_

_ "All the more reason!" She was thirteen and aching for a taste of freedom, exercising her invention of rebellion in her bones. When one gave her an inch, she'd run off with the mile while Simon watched her take off, disapproving at best. Disappointed most often, like their mother. _

_ For most of his childhood he had looked up to her, idolized her, saw her in a light that made her great. They fought like siblings always did, but it was never an all out war between them, that came later. Starting on a stormy night, where thunder rattled the windows of their house and Bree coaxed her younger brother outside. It was late, they were supposed to be asleep. If they were too loud they would wake their mother and they would be in for a world of trouble. _

_ None of that seemed to cross Bree's mind, or maybe it did and she just didn't care. _

_ Eleven year old Simon watched his sister as she spun on their front lawn, the rain dancing about her, bouncing off her outspread arms. He didn't understand it, this fascination with the rain._

_ She loved thunderstorms, thrill that strung the air, the suspense that captivated the night just before thunder rolled, cascading around in the silence, bouncing off invisible walls, echoing in one's chest. _

_ "Here it comes," she whispered under her breath, eyes closed, waiting, anticipating the coming sound. _

_ It clattered above them and she let out a delighted squeal, her smile so bright Simon almost mistook it for the sun rising. _

_ He could never understand his sister and his young mind tried to wrap around why she had been acting so strangely lately. He wouldn't comprehend it till years later, after he'd already made the distinction between them._

_ "C'mon Simon. Don't be a sissy." She mocked, sending him a look._

_ He didn't budge because his eyes were glued the sky which had been suddenly illuminated by lightning. _

_ They lived in a flat area, not many trees around and besides the houses, they were the tallest things in the area. Simon had learned enough in science class that one didn't want to be out during lightning, one did not want to get shocked. _

_ He opened his mouth to tell his sister this but thunder crashed down once more, drowning out his practical voice. _

_ Bree stopped moving and tilted her head back, staring at the skyline and moments later lightly lit up the night once more. _

_ Simon gulped, it wasn't far off. _

_ The night was suddenly tumultuous, the wind picking up. _

_ "Bree," he started, voice wary, "we should go inside." _

_ "You afraid of a little lightning Simon?" Her taunt was accompanied by a roll of thunder and a __flash of lighting that reflected in her eyes, giving light to a wildness that Simon didn't understand. _

_ She was wild and untamed at thirteen and it didn't get much better with age. _

_ The lightning that night touched down, but never on them. Simon went inside. _

_ Bree sat down cross-legged on the lawn, fell asleep there even. Their mother found her in the morning, ripped into her pretty well. _

_ Bree just grinned, that same feral wildness in her brown eyes as she drowned out her mother's words and looked at Simon. _

She would never know how significant that moment was to Simon, she probably didn't even remember it.

It was the moment he decided that if she was going to be wild and unpredictable, he would be stable and secure, to balance out their family. Their mother needed someone she could depend on as time wore on her. He knew Bree would never need her mother like most girls would, and he knew his mother would regret that, so he devoted himself to making sure his mother never missed out on having a deep bond with one of her kids.

He decided to become the favorite son that night and the next morning he began his mission, waking up his mother extremely early to tell her that Bree fell asleep on the front lawn in the middle of a thunderstorm where lightning flashed all around.

Bree, as a teenager, had hated him for his decision.

But in the light of death's crashing lightning, that wildness shown in her eyes and mixed with admiration. She was grateful someone had been there for her mother, that someone had connected her when it was painfully obvious Bree and Angela could not be compatible in such a way.

Angela would need Simon now.

Simon and Bree both knew this.

He would never admit it out loud, but it hurt to see the wildness in his sister's eyes dimmed by disease, but he thought it was about time that unpredictable, undependable fire burnt itself out.

Like he said, he always knew she'd die young.

_**/**_

Ethan does not know his aunty is dying, only realizes that she is sad, that his Uncle Phil is sad too. He knows that when his mommy gets sad, she likes to be hugged.

So when Uncle Phil sits down on the couch while Aunty Bree is off somewhere, Ethan sits down next to his uncle.

Phil looked down at the small boy and smiled, the expression slightly forced.

Without asking, or saying any words at all, the little boy wraps his arms around Phil. His arms are too small to encompass Phil's chest, his fingers do not even touch.

Phil places an arm around the small boy, smiling to himself.

"Don't be sad Uncle Phil," the little boy mumbles against his side.

"I'll try not to buddy."

When Phil glances up, Bree is in the doorway, watching them, tears in her eyes.

He pats Ethan's head before telling him he needed to go talk to his aunty and if he asked his grandma nicely she would give him a cookie.

Phil went to Bree, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her head.

"I'll never get to see you be a dad," she whispered against his neck, holding herself against him, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Suddenly they were back in Dr. Jorgenson's office, receiving the news all over again.

_Standing in this room _

_well I wonder what comes now_

_I know I have to help her _

_but hell if I know how _

_and all the times that I've been told_

_the way her illness goes_

_the truth of it is no one really knows _

"Doubled." She repeats and Dr. Jorgenson just nodded gravely.

Phil's hand tightened around Bree's and he felt the fear clutch at his heart. The fear that he had been fighting back for four months now, since they received the news about the clinical trial.

"It appears the treatment has stopped working and is no longer having any affect at all on your cancer." Dr. Jorgenson frowned heavily, his expression apologetic, but really there was nothing he could do, "I feel that continuing the trial would be pointless. It would only make you feel worse, with no results in return."

"So I'm back where I was before I started the treatment." She murmured.

"Not exactly. You're...further progressed than when you started."

"What the hell does that mean?" Phil asked.

"It means your worse than when you started, you're at the stage you would've been if you hadn't started the treatment."  
"So it was all for nothing," she whispered, "I'm still going to die in six to twelve months."

Dr. Jorgenson opened his mouth to say something but Phil cut him off with a look.

"Thank you Doctor, for everything. I'm glad we at least tried."

"You can always try for another trial, something different may work."

"Or it may just make me sicker while really doing nothing for me."

"Each treatment is different."

"Dying is all the same."

And with that she left the room.

After a moment of staring at the floor, Phil stood, nodded toward the doctor and left, following after Bree.

/

They'd flown back to Missouri a few days later, both of her brother's were there, her dad sat alone in his office, her mother was obsessively baking in the kitchen.

Phil had to return to the road soon, he would be there a lot. WrestleMania season was upon the company now and they would need him, he was one of their top main card wrestlers. He couldn't be missing as much as he had the past three months. The company needed him doing press and appearances and matches and promos.

All of that meant he would not be home very much.

Bree was understanding. She understood it all, she'd once been a part of that life, rushing around from state to state, pressing on smiles for fans, signing autographs for hours, loving every second of it all.

She'd had it ripped away from her so violently and suddenly, she didn't want for it to be taken away from Phil as well, so when he left, she smiled and kissed him goodbye. She promised she'd see him soon and call him all the time.

She found herself sitting on the porch a lot with Sammy stretching out on the floorboards in the weak spring sunlight. A lot of the days, Lee would find himself sitting next to his sister. Between them sat a notebook. One some days it would be left open, a pen lying across its pages. Other days it would be in Lee's hands as he wrote down the words that Bree spoke. At times, Bree would write herself and Lee would sit in silence. Some days, it just stayed closed.

"I want you to serve only deserts at my funeral. Write that down." Bree said, nodding toward the notebook which was folded open to a fresh sheet of paper. Lee picked up the pad, reaching for the pen once he had settled the notebook on his knee. He added a new title for this list and Bree continued on.

"I don't want anyone there who doesn't really no me. And please, don't let any fuckers get up there and talk about me like they have a clue who I really am when they don't."

"So, who is allowed to speak?"

"You, Phil, Matt, John, Eve and Barbie." She nodded as she concluded her list.

"Why me?"

"Because I want a family member to speak. Dad will be a complete mess, lost in his depression. Mom will be numb, acting like nothing's wrong. Simon," she sighed, "Simon will be the golden boy, like always. You know me better than mom or Simon, so I want you to talk about me. I really don't care what you say, don't even know if I'll be able to hear it where I am." She smiled slightly, just the narrowest tilt of her lip.

"I don't know what I'd say."

"Don't over think it, you'll come up with something that'll be perfectly suitable."

"If Phil heard you talking right now..." Lee trailed off, shaking his head.

"He'd lose his shit, I know. I'm not trying to be pessimistic, but it's pointless to just ignore the obvious truth." She shrugged, motioning out with her arms.

"Do you ever thing that maybe you'll—," she cut him off.

"There's no escaping it Lee."

He stared at her for a moment, her profile facing him as she stared off into the distance.

"How long? I-I haven't been keeping track," he asked.

"Sometime between September and March." Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes cast downward, "about a year at the most."

Lee stayed silent, knowing March would be coming to a close in a week and a half. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to have a vague idea of the date that you were going to die. Would he be afraid? Probably terrified. Would he be grateful for knowing? Resentful? Regretful?

As he looked at his older sister, he could see she felt all of these things. He wondered if she worried about what came after death, or if her mind was solely occupied with the thoughts of what she would do with her time left.

He didn't ask, because he was a coward who didn't want to hear the terrifying answers.

He couldn't escape them, however, just like she couldn't escape this disease.

Sooner or later, they would be faced with it.

_and every day this act we act gets more and more absurd_

_and all my fears just sit inside of me, screaming to be heard _

_and I've never had to face the world without her at my side _

_now I'm strolling right beside her as the black hole opens wide_

_mine is just a slower suicide _

"Smoochie!" Matt called just before reaching his best friend and wrapping her in a tight hug, pressing his lips to her hairline. Bree returned the hug, placing her arms around his torso, squeezing him tightly, she'd missed him.

There was a tug on his shoulder and he reluctantly let Bree go so that Eve could hug her best friend as well.

"Hey hon, I haven't seen you in forever," Eve murmured in her friend's ear, her smile forced as her mind was bogged down with the sight of her friend. Bree—vibrant, loud Bree—was not what she had once been. Eve, who hadn't seen her since before the new year, could barely find a hint of her old best friend in the vacant eyes of the girl standing before her.

Bree smiled hesitantly at Eve as they pulled back from their hug, hands on each others arms. "It's really great to see you Eve."

Bree didn't have the heart to tell her friend that this would probably be the last time she ever saw her. Bree knew she was going to begin to go downhill, and fast. Even though they'd all promised they would shy away or cringe at the sight of her disease-infested body as she got sicker, she had seen the grimace in Eve's eyes, the disbelief and lack of recognition and the falseness of Eve's smile.

It was hard enough to see it now, when she could still function. Bree didn't want to see their expressions when she could no longer walk or bathe herself.

She didn't want them to see her like that.

Without voicing it to Phil, this had been her reason for going on the road with him for the week before WrestleMania. She wanted to see as many people as possible, because this would be the last time, she decided.

Matt, Eve, John, Stephen, Daniel, Nattie and Mike. She'd get to see them all this week, plus some others who she wasn't as close too. Bree didn't know when she'd see Barbie or Beth, maybe she wouldn't get to before she died.

"It's strange, there are like no girls left in our group," Bree said.

"Yeah, it's just me most of the time," Eve said with a slight sigh, "Since Barbie and Beth were released it's been pretty quiet on the girl end."

"Well, you got engaged, I wouldn't call that quiet." Bree said before reaching out for Eve's hand, inspecting the ring with a beaming smile. "It's gorgeous."

Matt watched Phil as the Chicago native watched Bree, noting the excited expression on her face as she talked about Eve's upcoming nuptials. He morbidly wondered if Bree would be around to attend the wedding.

He shook the thoughts from his mind and caught Matt's gaze, eyebrows furrowing in question.

"You still have the ring?" He asked.

"Well it's not like I'm going to return it." Phil muttered, lowering his voice so Bree didn't hear.

Matt just nodded, "will you ask her?"

Phil's eyes slid back to Bree as she pulled Eve's hair up, trying out a style idea for the wedding. "I-I don't know," Phil whispered, rubbing his chin before crossing his arms over his chest.

Bree glanced over at him, sending him a smile as he caught her eye, he returned the smile, being unable to do anything else in response when she genuinely smiled at him.

"C'mon, let's go find John and the others," Eve said, grabbing Bree's hand and leading her friend off down the hall.

Phil fell into step beside Matt, trailing behind the two females who were rushing off down the hall.

"Talk." Matt said simply once Bree was out of earshot.

Phil sighed, "I'm," he paused, clearing his throat.

"You're afraid."

"Terrified."

Matt nodded. "Of what? Just her dying?"

Phil was silent for a moment, staring intently at the floor as he walked, "no, I'm afraid I haven't done enough. I'm afraid I haven't shown her how much I love her. I frightened by the thought of having to manage even a day without her being here. It scares me to think I won't get to live out my dreams of our future with her, that if she dies I'm going to have to re-plan my whole life. I'm afraid that she's given up, that she's just going to let herself die. I know she could keep fighting if she wanted to, get into another trial, gain a few more months."

"But she won't?"

"We haven't really talked about it."

"I think you guys need to."

Phil nodded in agreement. "I know, I just, I don't want to fight with her about it. I don't want us to spend what time we have left being angry at each other. I don't want her to push me away, not now," Phil shook his head, rubbing his hand over his jaw and then down his neck. He let out a heavy breath.

"She loves you Phil, that should be enough to overcome all your fears. Plus, its her choice how she spends her life," Matt said, looking his friend dead in the eye.

Phil looked back at him, and he honestly knew it wasn't his choice whether she spend the last months of her life trying to find a way to prolong her eminent end, or just enjoying her health while she had it.

He still couldn't grasp the fact that he was going to lose her.

_I've been here for the show, _

_every high, every low _

_but it's the worst we've ever known _

_she's been hurt and how? _

_But I can't give up now_

_'cause I've never been alone _

_I could never be alone._

Matt was wholly correct, Phil knew. He needed to tell Bree about his fears and concerns, he couldn't keep them from her. Bottling them up inside would do no one any good, especially not himself.

They were in their hotel room, preparing for a press conference and succeeding dinner afterward when he brought it up.

"Bree?"

"Yeah?" She asked, her profile appearing in the doorway to the bathroom as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, pressing her lips together after slicking on her lip gloss.

"I'm afraid."  
Her eyebrows furrowed as she cast him a confused look. "You've done press a thousand times before. Tonight's no different."

He shook his head, running a hand through his short hair, "no, not about the press. A-about," he couldn't think of the words to describe their current situation.

Her saw her shoulders straighten as she caught on to what he was trying to articulate. "Oh," she muttered, setting her tube of lip gloss down on the bathroom counter. She braced her hands on the ledge of the marble and let out a slow breath, "me too."

He stared at her profile, eyes poring over the pale skin of her face, the slight curl of her short hair which was slowly coming back again after the trial. It was barely longer than his own now. She ran her fingers through the short strands before looking over at him. "You have no idea how petrified I am."

"Talk to me, I-I want to know what's going on in your head." He said, pushing himself to his feet, but not stepping any closer to her.

She shook her head, her eyes staring straight ahead, not at him. "I know what you're going to say. You'll tell me to stop dwelling on the fact that I'm going to die, be positive, find another option." Her tone was slightly sarcastic as she mimicked him, her jaw clenched.

"So, you won't try another trial."

"No."

"No!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but the incredulous yell just escaped him before he could even register it. He never yelled at Bree, never raised his voice at her.

"No." She repeated.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He asked, he could feel the inconceivable rage building and he desperately wanted to hold it at bay, but everything was piling up on him. He couldn't hold back the crashing waves now, his levees were breaking, the tidal wave was coming in, hard, fast and unrelenting.

"Exactly what you think it means. You just don't want to accept it." She crossed her arms, still not looking at him, "I'm tired of being sick, and, and not having any hair and feeling ugly. I don't want to live like this anymore. You have no idea how terrible it is to look in the mirror and hate how you're living."

"No, you-you can't look at things like that, you need to keep trying. It could work this time, you don't know." He was desperately trying to cling to some reasonable part of him.

"No." She whipped around to look at him, brown eyes lit up, "no." She enunciated the word clearly at it hung in the air like a slap to Phil's face. It stung viciously.

"This isn't what you're supposed to be doing." He whispered

"Goddammit Phil, what am I supposed to do?"

"Keep fighting. Do fucking anything except give up."

"I'm not giving up. I'm facing reality, I'm making decisions. Sure, they may not be decisions that you like or want to make, but they need to be made now. Not after I'm gone." Her voice had lifted as well, just as his had, they were screaming at each other now.

"We should be making them together."

"We should, but every time I bring up my death you get like this," she motioned to him, throwing out her hands, "I know exactly how you're going to react. Just accept it Phil. I'm dying. Fucking dying. I've got an expiration date tattooed on my biological clock. I'm fucked, I'm going to leave, I'm going to disappear and you're going have to deal with it because you'll still be here even after I'm gone." She sucked in a breath before continuing, "there's nothing you can do about it. You can't take it away, you can't make it hurt less, you can't stop it. All you can do is accept it!"

He shook his head, "No, no, I'm not going to give up hope."

"Phil," she said, her voice a broken whine as she looked at him, pity in her gaze, "we're past hoping."

He stared at her, wide-eyed as a silence befell them. The quiet between them had never been awkward before, never like this. It was a chasm that opened up and split them far apart. There was no bridging it, they could both see it. They had completely opposite viewpoints on the matter and there would be no compromise.

"You may be, but I'm not." He spoke, the words falling into the silence that separated them. He stopped for a moment, hoping for her to say something, say anything. Agree with him,, he hoped. But she didn't, she didn't say a word, she was completely and utterly silent.

"I can't stay here and watch you let the disease have its way with you. I can't." Phil shook his head, lowering his eyes from her.

She bit her lip and nodded as he glanced up at her quickly, before she whispered, "then don't. Don't stay. Leave. It'll probably be better that way. For both of us."

_She never slows down_

_she doesn't know why but she knows that when she's all alone_

_feels like its all coming down_

_she won't turn around_

_the shadows are long and she fears if she cries that first tear, _

_the tears will not stop raining down_

He started toward the door, slipping his wallet into the pocket of his jeans along with his cell phone. He paused at the door, his fingers clenching around the knob, knuckles turning white. He didn't look up as he spoke, just stared hard into the door.

"This isn't what I wanted."

"But this is what we've got." She replied, staring at the wall in front of her before casting her eyes sideways, staring at his tense shoulders before he turned the knob and left the hotel room.

Reconciliation would not come easily, she knew well as she stood in the eerily silent hotel room.

On shaking legs she walked back into the bathroom, feeling the unease shift her stomach. She leaned over the toilet, but her stomach was empty. Her appetite had left her days ago, she'd barely eaten the past few days but it didn't seem to bother her body.

The cancer, she knew, was the cause.

Her whole body shook, but she refused to let the tears fall. She wouldn't cry over this.

Fighting, having an argument with your significant other, it was the most normal thing about her life at the moment and she clung to that fiercely. She took in a shuddering breath before lifting her head and straightening herself. She tilted her chin upward, staring at her reflection.

She wouldn't spend her last months of life crying.

Stepping back into the main room she rushed around quickly, picking up her belongings that had become strewn about the room in the few days they had been there. She packed them away neatly before changing back into a pair of loose jeans and a t-shirt. She paused for a moment after she changed, her hand reaching up, feeling the tubing in her chest. In a few days, she'd have it removed. She hadn't told Phil about it, she knew he was holding on to the hope that she'd start a new trial, but she had decided shortly after the failure of the first that she wouldn't be putting herself through that again.

She'd be able to wear tank tops in public again and tighter shirts without worrying that someone would see her port. It was something positive that she would hold on to, in order to keep the tears away.

She finished packing and looked around, finding her favorite hoodie. She paused as she picked it up. It wasn't her hoodie, it was Phil's.

She didn't know where they stood at the moment, but she was too selfish to leave the hoodie behind. Instead, she shrugged it up her arms before zipping her suitcase shut and sliding it off the bed and onto its wheels. She flipped up the hood of the jacket before grabbing her purse and extending the handle of her suitcase, then she left the hotel room, leaving her key card inside with a short note.

_Went home. We obviously need some space. Love, Bree. _

Just because they'd fought didn't mean she stopped loving him. She was still his for the rest of her life, no matter how long that would be. She knew she could never love another man like she loved Phil. She felt cheated that she wouldn't get to marry him and have his children and grow old with him. But there was nothing she could do about it now, the end of her story was drawing near.

He still had a whole life ahead of him, and if letting him go now, like this, was what would get him to move on faster, then she was okay with that. She wanted him to be happy. Sure, she didn't like the idea of him being happy with another woman, but Bree was going to die, and she didn't want him to dwell on her death for the rest of his life and miss out on all the same things she would never get to experience. One of them had to experience all those things.

She caught a red eye back to Missouri and called Lee. He picked her up and didn't ask questions, told her he'd wait till the morning to ask why she was suddenly home when WrestleMania was just days away. She told him she'd explain in the morning, though she wasn't sure if she'd be able to talk.

The tears were back again, more persistent than before, but still she held them back, refusing to cry.

If she could have one thing before she died, it was the strength to not spend her last six to twelve months depressed and crying all the time.

That was all she asked for.

_so stand in the rain_

_stand your ground_

_stand up when its all crashing down_

_you stand through the pain_

_you won't drown_

_and one day, what's lost can be found_

_you stand in the rain_

Eve's eyebrows were furrowed as she stopped in catering once more, glancing around, searching for a particular familiar face and not finding it.

"Hey, Eve, what are you doing? This is like, the fourth time you've walked through catering in the last half hour." John asked, placing a hand on the Latina's arm.

She paused and looked up at him, "I've been looking for Bree. I haven't seen her all week since the day after she arrived. She hasn't been answering her phone either. I'm a little worried."

John met her gaze and nodded, understanding why one would be worried. "Well, let's find Phil. I'm sure he'll know where she is."

Eve nodded before they headed off for the locker room.

Phil was there, sitting on a folding chair, taping up his wrists. A pensive expression furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes, while a deep tension sat between his shoulder blades, making his posture awkward and uncomfortable looking.

John realized something was wrong right away. Phil was not the type to be high-strung like that. He was always more relaxed, especially when under a lot of pressure, like one was under on the night of WrestleMania.

"Hey man," he greeted the Chicago native.

Phil nodded in greeting, not even looking up.

Eve stood awkwardly behind John and when the blue-eyed man looked back at her she just grimaced and shrugged, not sure what was wrong with Phil either. Though, now that she thought about it, he had been grumpier than usual all week, and Bree had been missing in action most of the days leading up to WrestleMania.

"We, uh, we were looking for Bree. We were wondering if you knew where she was?" John asked, shrugging easily, trying not to translate the worry he felt into his words.

"Missouri," Phil growled, before turning away, searching for a sharpie to use to draw on his taped fists.

"Missouri?" John asked.

"Did I stutter?" Phil retorted.

John stared at the man, there was a tense silence for several moments, "why'd she leave?"

Phil glanced up at Cena, eyes hard before he brushed past him and left the locker room without giving the other man an answer to his question.

John turned back to Eve, not sure what to say or do. Eve worried her lip between her teeth and sighed.

/

"Do you think you'll talk to him again before, y'know, the end?" Lee asked as he and his sister sat on their parents' porch. Ethan was playing in the yard and Sammy was watching the young boy curiously but not making to move from the patch of sunlight where he was stretched out luxuriously.

"I hope I do. But I can't say for sure."

"You could just call him." Lee suggested with a shrug.

"It's still too soon," Bree murmured before pushing herself to her feet. She wobbled slightly and Lee was up next to her quickly, supporting her.

She mumbled a thank you before pushing him away and walking back into the house. Lee sighed, watching her go.

When she walked into her room, her phone was ringing. John's name flashed across the screen but she ignored it. She didn't feel like explaining to anyone that she and Phil weren't on speaking terms, she knew if she did, she'd start crying. It had been hard enough trying to tell Lee. Thankfully he was patient and let her take her time and get her emotions under control. She wouldn't have those luxuries when speaking to John or Eve or Matt, they would want the story straight and fast with no breaks for deep breaths in between.

Closing her eyes, she breathed, focusing on the deep inhalation through her nose. Holding it for a slight moment before letting it out slowly and evenly through her mouth. She listened to her heart beat, slow and steady in her chest. She stopped the shaking in her body, and knew she needed to force down some kind of food.

_she won't make a sound _

_alone in this fight with herself _

_and the fears whispering if she stands she'll fall down_

_She wants to be found _

_the only way out is through everything she's running from_

_wants to give up and lie down_

She woke up alone, again, like she had been doing for the past three months.

Next she would lie in bed in silence for several minutes, listen to her own heart beat, make sure it was still there, assure herself that it was at its normal pace.

Then, she would close her eyes again, notice how cold her body felt, how empty the room was.

After, to escape the thoughts of who was missing from her life, she would force herself out of bed and into the bathroom where she would proceed to strip herself down, shower, wash her hair with was past her ears now.

She'd then spend a couple minutes staring at her reflection, judging it, comparing it to her old self, her pre-cancer self.

Lee would knock lightly on the door, telling her he was there for the day, knowing what she doing inside, trying to stop her from the torment her reflection brought.

Usually, he would have lunch with him, and depending on how she felt that day, she would join him for lunch or retreat back to her cold, empty bedroom and sit in silence. Or lie down and wish that today would be the day it all ended.

But Thursday mornings were different.

_Is it raining at your place just like it is over here_

_If it is then sweetheart like me I know you're scared_

_I just called you to console you like any old friend would do_

_Is it raining at you house and by the way I still love you._

"I'm heading out."

The first morning Lee had heard those words he froze, eyebrows furrowed, confusion thick in his mind.

"Heading out where?"

Bree had just looked at him and he knew it was her asking him not to ask questions. It was her promising she'd explain later, that she didn't have the words or motivation to do so at the moment. He had just nodded.

Then, the next week, same day, same time, same words.

"I'm heading out."

"Okay," he called back as he put her brunch in the refrigerator.

The third week, she was smiling when she left, and he smiled back at her.

A month after this started, when she came back and found him reading on the couch, she sat down next to him.

"It's been good for me," she said, reaching out, placing her hand on top of his, "I promise its nothing bad. I just...I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"It's fine Bree. I'm here for what you do want to talk about," his lips quirked slightly, "its good to see you smiling again."

The next week, there was tears. He wanted to ask, but when she glanced at him before heading upstairs he didn't speak. The shutting of her door signaled to him that she would not be joining Ethan, Angela, Ben, Carina, and him for dinner.

It went on for several more weeks. Platonic. Smiles. Tears. Then the cycle would repeat.

/

"Bree, how's your week been?" Melissa asked, hugging the woman, her blue eyes smiling at the younger woman.

"It's been good," Bree replied.

"No need to lie. What's up?"

"Mine and my boyfriend's three year anniversary was a couple days ago."

"Oh, and you two still aren't talking."

"No." Bree sighed and Melissa looked at her, having no advice in this instance. She's cut ties with her husband months ago. Bree knew there would be no words from the blue-eyed woman so she asked, "When's Andrew's funeral?"

"A week from Saturday." Melissa replied, looking grateful for the change in subject.  
"I'll try to make it."

"I'll be there, I could always pick you up," Melissa said.

"That would be great actually, thanks."

"All right, it looks like everyone's here," Dr. Sanders called the group to gather. Everyone took their seat in the circle of folding chairs.

"Well, this week we have someone new to the group. Everyone is Anthony. Why don't we all introduce ourselves, in our normal way. Melissa, would you start?"

"Yeah of course Sand Man." The group chuckled at the woman's usual humor, "I'm Melissa, the monkey on my back is skin cancer and I have two months." Melissa glanced over at Bree, who was sitting next to her.

"I'm Bree, breast cancer that went ape shit on my bones. Three to nine."

"Jackson, pancreatic, five weeks."

The circle of introduction went on and finally returned to Anthony. He was young, a teenager, bald from chemotherapy Bree guessed.

"Hey, I'm Anthony. Leukemia. I've got about six months left now."

"Well, welcome Anthony. Just so you know, everything discussed here is completely confidential, doesn't leave this room. We're here to be your soundboards and to talk to you about whatever is bothering you. Usually we stick to the one thing we all have in common," Dr. Sanders looked up to the group motioning with his hands.

"Death by cancer." They all responded.

"But it doesn't just have to be about that. All right, does anybody have anything they'd like to start with?"

"Yeah, I-I do," it was a small red-headed woman that usually didn't say much, just listened.

"Okay, Tammy, what is it?"

Bree blinked, her mind taken from the conversation as her cell phone began to vibrate in her purse. She zipped open the bag and flipped the device over so she could see who was calling.

Silently she pressed the reject button and closed the bag back up, returning to the group meeting. She glanced out the window, noticing a light sprinkle beginning to fall in the early June air.

/

Phil sighed angrily, scrubbing a hand over his stubble before setting his phone down.

Three months.

He'd spent three months being pissed off at her, three months that he could've spent making memories with her that he could savor after she was gone.

Instead, he let his anger and his fear get the better of him.

He hadn't called once in all that time, not even on their three year anniversary, and it had taken a lot of self control not to.

Now that he had tried calling, he was heartbroken and crestfallen that she had no answered. He thought she'd be ready now to talk, that they could move past the words they had shared so viciously that night.

He couldn't give up that easily.

He picked up his phone again and dialed her number. He waited as it rang and rang and ran and he knew she wouldn't pick up. Eventually it went to her voice mail.

Staring out the window at the falling rain, he tried to formulate a message to leave for her but still, when the beep sounded he wasn't ready.

"I-I was hoping you would pick up, but I understand why you wouldn't." He sighed, pausing for a lonely heartbeat before continuing, "honestly, I'm sick of this," he confessed into the receiver, "and I really hope you are as well because not talking to you is the worst thing that's happened to me in the past year. That fight," he sighed again, "I'm sorry Bree. I know I don't say it enough when I fuck up. So I'm sorry. I would really like to talk about things, so, call me back. I just-It was raining here, and it made me think of you. Anyways," he rubbed a hand over his eyes, "I'll go, call me back please."

He sucked in a breath, ready to end the message but instead he whispered, "and by the way, I still love you."

_I keep on dreaming dreams of tomorrow_

_feel I'm wasting my time_

_lighting candles in the wind,_

_always taking my chances_

_on the promise of the future_

_but, a heart full of of sorrow_

_paints a lonely tapestry_

_the sun is shining _

_but, it's raining in my heart_

She fell down the stairs the Saturday of Andrew's funeral as she headed downstairs to wait for Melissa to pick her up. She didn't fall down the whole flight, but the bottom third at least. No broken bones, but she was bruised up.

Little Ethan found her lying at the bottom of the stairs, legs tangled together, lying diagonally down the steps, her head on the hardwood floor.

She was crying, sobbing into the hardwood. Finally, all the tears she'd been suppressing came through and she cried like she would never have tears to cry again.

Lee picked her up, cradling her against his chest, he carried her back up the steps and placed her in her bed, stroking her hair gently until the sobs subsided. Then he ask her if anything was broken.

When Melissa showed up, Lee answered the door and wasn't sure who she was.

"I'm from Bree's therapy group, for terminally ill cancer patients."

The woman, despite her lack of hair, was beautiful, Lee realized. Her big blue eyes were dark like sapphires but shined just like the gems.

"I-she never said she was going..." he trailed off.

"Oh, for over two months now, I'd say. But, I guess it makes sense. Are you her boyfriend?" She asked.

Lee chuckled slightly, "no, I'm her little brother."

"Oh, she's mentioned you. You've been taking care of her."  
"I don't know if I'd say that." He didn't feel as if he really did anything.

"You'd be surprised how much it really means to her." The woman finally realized why she was there, "oh, did she forget I was picking her up?"

"Picking her up for what?" He asked.

"Andrew's funeral." Melissa replied.

Lee frowned slightly, "I don't think she'll be making it. She, she had a really bad fall this morning."

Melissa's eyes widened, "can I see her?"

"Um," Lee hesitated but the blue-eyed woman was already stepping inside. "She's upstairs, second door on the left," he called after the woman as he closed the front door.

Melissa opened the door to the bedroom slowly.

Bree was curled up in a ball on the bed, still crying.

"Oh honey," Melissa whispered. She sat down on the bed next to Bree, drawing her into her arms. She was only a few years older than Bree, but she had an amazing maternal quality about her that had instantly attracted Bree.

"Are you hurt?" Melissa asked softly.

"Just bruises, I'll be okay."  
"But with the bone cancer..." Melissa knew her bones were probably becoming brittle, more fragile due to the cancer and the treatments.

"I'll be okay." Bree said, her voice harder.

Melissa just nodded, holding the other woman, staying silent as the girl's tears slowly stopped.

"I'm leaving Melissa."  
"What?" the woman's eyebrows lifted as she leaned back to look down at Bree's face.

"I'm going to leave. I-I don't want to put Lee or anyone else in my family through watching me die. I don't want that, I don't want them taking care of me when I can't take care of myself."

"So you'll just leave. Where will you go?"

"I want to travel, before I die."

"Well, you have three to nine months to do it, I guess."

"I wish you could go with me," Bree whispered into Melissa's shoulder.

"Oh I wish I could go too, hun, but its not in the cards for me. Less than two months, I gotta stay here to be with my family." She went silent for a moment, stroking Bree's short hair.

"Just promise me one thing Breann," she murmured.

"What's that?"

"Don't take the easy way out like Andrew did." Melissa whispered.

"I promise."

_**-Summer-**_

_no one understands the heartache,_

_no one feels the pain,_

_cause no one ever see the tears_

_when you're crying in the rain_

She didn't realize it before, but Phil radiated heat while he slept. Whenever he was in bed beside her, Bree realized, she was never cold at night.

Now, alone, the sheets were like ice. They didn't even absorb her own heat and trade it back in a never ending cycle. They just stole her heat and then they coated her cold once more.

She shivered as her bare legs slid along the smooth, freezing sheets. Her toes were cold but she didn't want to get up to put socks on. Her body was sore from her fall on the stairs, the bruise on her abdomen throbbed when she would bend over to put shoes on. She'd rather avoid it and just put up with cold toes.

Even in the early summer sunlight, the room was still cold but she knew she had a lot to get done that day.

She'd sent Lee home to be with his wife and son, who he had been neglecting slightly since her fall and his finding out about the support group.

Her mother and father were missing as usual so Bree had the house to herself.

She found the stack of empty boxes in the garage and slowly carried them up the stairs, ignoring the throbbing of her bruises and aching of her muscle and creaking of her bones.

She set the empty boxes down on the floor in her room. Her suitcase was unzipped and lying open on top of her bed. She would begin packing up her things that day, she'd decided the night before that she needed to start or she never would. She needed to get a move on or she'd never actually leave.

Beginning with her closet, she packed the clothes she knew she wouldn't be taking with her into the boxes along with old mementos and photo albums. She stopped to look through a few from Lee's wedding, Simon's wedding, her parent's wedding, when Ethan was born.

She found the box of scrapbooks that she'd made for all her loved ones. She'd meant to give them out at Christmas, but everyone had been so busy and been doing a lot of traveling. She hadn't gotten to see anyone. She forgot the scrapbooks existed until she found them that day. She knew she'd have to give them out soon.

She would give these to them and see them one last time before she left for good. They would have these photos and memories to keep for as long as they wished, or until they completely forgot about her.

She would leave and know that they would be okay. They would move on.

She didn't understand why, but she began to cry. Huge, gut-wrenching sobs as she ran out onto the porch and sat down on the front steps as the summer rain fell on her.

She felt determined, yet empty.

_If I traded it all_

_if I gave it all away for one thing_

_just for one thing_

_if I sorted it out_

_if I knew all about this one thing_

_wouldn't that be something _

"Well you look like shit," Matt commented as he walked into Phil's hotel room.

"Thanks," Phil replied dryly, closing the door behind his friend. "I really needed that self-esteem boost."

"Seriously, man, you've been a mess since before WrestleMania, and that was three months ago." Matt said, watching his friend as he walked over to his bed and sat down on the end of it.

Matt took a seat in the chair that went with the desk and turned it so he was facing Phil.

"I know," Phil muttered.

"Have you spoken to her?"

"No."

"Have you tried to talk to her?"

"Yes." Phil ran a hand over his head, "I called her a two weeks ago, she didn't pick up. I left a message..." he shook his head.

"No reply," Matt filled in what Phil hadn't said, the older man just nodded.

"I just...I don't want that night to be the last night I ever see her. I don't want that to be my last memory of her, yelling at her," he shook his head, "I don't want that to be her last memory of me."

"I'm sure she feels the same."

Phil sighed, "I get it now, I-I think I do."

"Get what?"

"I think I get what she was trying to tell me that night." He lifted his head to look at Matt, "she was trying to tell me that she wanted to have quality of life, that she didn't want to be sick all the time if she was just going to die young anyways," Matt noticed the way Phil cringed at the words. "And I just yelled at her and told her she wasn't trying hard enough. I accused her of wanting to die."

Matt stared at the Chicago native, until that moment he hadn't filled Matt in on what the fight had been about. Now it made sense.

"She doesn't want to do another clinical trial?"

"No, she doesn't."

"I feel like you've realized this now, but I'll say it just in case." He took a breath before looking Phil dead in the eye, "I think you should enjoy what time you do have with her, instead of wasting what little time you have left trying to get more. Because, let's face it, she needs you and you, obviously need her."

_even though I know_

_I don't want to know_

_yeah I guess I know_

_I just hate how it sounds_

Matt's words kept resounding in Phil's head as he sat in his hotel room, perched on the edge of his bad, head in hands, trying to reign in his breathing.

Slowly, he reached his hand out beside him, his hand searching blindly for his phone which he had thrown on his bed. As his fingers closed around the rectangular object he let out a breath before lifting it up to his eyes. He dialed Bree's number and held the phone to his ear, waiting, his heart suddenly speeding up.

He hoped to hear her voice on the other end of the line, but after several long rings, he heard nothing.

Closing his eyes slowly, he sighed, letting his hand lower the phone from his ear. He turned his lip ring with his tongue, working it slowly, over and over again as he tried to decide what to do. He needed to talk to her, he couldn't let things just go like they did.

He looked down at his phone again, this time dialing a different number.

He chewed his lip as he waited, listening to the long rings before finally a voice sounded.

"Hello?"

"Angela. It's Phil." He was so grateful that she was at home for once.

"Phil?" She sounded astounded that he had called.

"Yeah, is Bree there?"

"No," there was a pause, "no she's not."

Phil's brows furrowed, "where is she?"

Angela hesitated before finally caving, "she's in Chicago."

Phil blinked, "Chicago? Why is she there?"

Angela sighed, "she's packing her things Phil."

"Thank you." And then he hung up and was on his feet, tossing his things in his bag and checking his phone for flight times to Chicago.

_Oh, but everybody knows this is the part_

_of breaking down in anybody's arms_

_I'm reaching down and hoping this one's ours_

_God, please let this stay_

Bree sighed to herself as she folded another sweater before packing into a box with the rest of her clothes. She paused and turned around slowly in a circle, taking in the bedroom that she had shared with Phil for the past year and a half.

It was slowly beginning to look more bare than when she had entered as she packed knick knacks and photos into boxes. She'd already packed away her CD collection which had once took up a whole row on their bookshelf. The next shelf she needed to pack was the one that housed her DVDs. Those were next to be packed she decided as she picked up the Sharpie she'd been using and wrote 'winter clothes' on the top of the box in front of her before taping it shut and carefully setting it aside.

She had to pack the boxes lightly so that she could carry them. Her strength was leaving her quickly now, she could feel how frail she was becoming but she chose to ignore it.

She retrieved an empty box from the hall and padded back into the bedroom, beginning to sort through the DVDs, pulling out the ones that belonged to her. She then slid them into the box in rows before taping and labeling that box as well.

Next, she decided to pack up the bathroom before finishing the bedroom. Shampoos, conditioner, make up, brushes, all placed into a cardboard box before being placed on the stack of packed boxes in the hallway.

All the while as she maneuvered items into boxes she fought back the tears as she folded away her life for the past three years into neat little packages.

To be giving up Phil willingly was something she had never thought would happen. She'd never once considered them ending things, them separating. No, it had never crossed her mind that they could be so strongly and inconsolably at odds.

Her plan was simple, now. She'd pack up her things from the apartment and move them into the storage unit. She'd then fly back to Missouri, leave the items that she was planning on setting out for her family to find, and then she would catch a taxi to the airport and leave before anyone could stop her and convince her to stay.

Convincing, however, would not take place. She knew no one could talk her out of leaving. Her mind was whole-heartedly set on it.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up her copy of Huck Finn, which she had left in Chicago after she had left the unsuccessful trial. She lifted it, to set it in a box.

"Stop."

The book hit the floor as she blinked.

She hadn't heard his keys turn the lock, nor had she heard his footsteps as he came down the hall. But now he was in the room and she wasn't hearing things. That was actually his voice.

She closed her eyes, silently asking him to speak again for she had been craving to hear his voice. The message he'd left on her phone had not done his tone and timbre justice.

Now she heard his steps as he walked into the room. Then, there was a heat behind her, and she knew he was standing just there. Just within her reach.

She felt his breath and the hairs at the nape of her neck rose as she struggled to get air into her lungs.

Phil's warm hand slid to cup her shoulder while the other came to rest on the dip of her waist.

She took a deep breath, trying to get the heat under control that had started beneath her skin. She opened her mouth to tell him she was leaving, "I'm-,"

He cut her off, "no."

She spun around to stare at him, his hands falling away from her so suddenly she felt cold, "no?"

"No." He replied, and they both felt the de ja vu of the conversation.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, her voice a soft whispering breath.

_And then I fell into pieces and she fell into me_

_saying, "play me a song. It's been so long since I've heard you sing."_

"We can't end like this," Phil whispered, taking her face into his hands, holding it with a tender gentleness that made her heart skip as she stared into his olive-flecked eyes.

Then his lips were on hers as he slid one arm around her, hands sliding over her body, over dips and curves he had memorized months before on nights where they had been intimately investigating one another, becoming acquainted and discovering.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips before kissing her again, fingers curling in her short hair. The kiss was desperate in the way they met and parted only briefly, gasping in breaths before taking each others lonely mouths again.

His lips trailed along her cheek, "I-I know I said all the wrong things, and I wasn't listening," he kissed along her jaw, his hands grasping her hips, thumbs stroking slow circles over the ridges of her hip bones, his lips never stopping, kissing her wherever he could reach.

"I keep thinking of what I'm going to lose. And I'm focusing on how I'm feeling," he sighed feeling her lips on his neck, her fingertips tracing the tattoos that laced intricately up his arms, her hands gripping his biceps all sensations he had missed greatly over the past three months. "I realized, this isn't about me. I can't imagine what you're feeling, and when you tell me how you're feeling, I overreact." He closed his eyes before framing her face with his hands again.

"I will try—," he pressed his forehead to hers, looking straight into her eyes, "I _am_ trying to be the man you need me to be for you," he whispered. Sliding his hands down to the column of her neck her kiss her again, his thumbs trailing along her jawline. Her hand moved down his chest, her nails raking downward to his sides where she stopped. He held her gaze, "you have no idea how badly I want to be perfect for you. I want to do everything, I will try to be anything to make you happy."

He closed his eyes, brows furrowing in a look of pensive concentration, "I love you," he kissed her lips, "I love you," another press of his lips to hers, "I love you." And the last kiss was firm and passionate and a promise without any real words spoke.

As her legs circled his waist she whispered against his throat, "I love you. I could never stop loving you, no matter what we say, no matter how we disagree. I'll love you, for always."

She kissed her way back up to his cheek and his skin tasted wet and like salt. The realization that he was crying barely reached her cloudy mind as his hands slid the material of her shirt off her body. He kissed down her chest before pausing.

"It's gone," he murmured, his lips hovering over the scar where her port had once been imbedded in her skin.

"Mhmm," she murmured, her lids fluttering closed as he placed a tender kiss over the scar.

He carried her to their bed, which he decided would always be their bed, even after she was gone.

They were broken and they were mending, they were ending and beginning all at the same time as his body moved in tandem and natural rhythm and synchronicity with hers. They shared a song that had no words and no real melody. It was an abstract idea, a feeling that united them.

_And yeah, we all fall to pieces_

_but at least you fell to me_

_but this is a wrong night _

_tell me goodnight and let it go, oh_

There was a beautiful silence in the room as her fingertips traced the tattoos on his chest and his own fingertips found her singular tattoo on her hip. They were wrapped around one another intricately, skin from one carrying on into the other, indistinguishable.

Bree felt lethargic as she laid with Phil, her head resting on his shoulder, one arm under him and the other on his chest. Phil's eyes were shut as he enjoyed her simple touches which he had missed. They soothed him, drew him away from the insecurities and fears that had been plaguing his mind over the past months.

They were comfortable and reunited, peaceful, simple, as close to happy as they could be.

Neither of them wanted to break the silence.

Reluctantly, "we needed to talk," Bree whispered.

"I know," Phil said back after a breath.

But Bree's eyes were falling closed and she didn't think she could stay awake long enough to have the conversation they really needed to.

Phil smiled softly himself as he heard her breathing even out and her hand stilled on his chest.

He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, knowing the tranquility of this moment probably wouldn't last but he had to learn to accept that.

He wasn't lying to Bree about what he had said. He was going to try and be the perfect man for her because he wanted her to die remembering him as the perfect man for her, the one who did anything he could for her, the one who made her truly happy.

_On our first date I asked you to dance_

_you turned bright red and started to laugh_

_I stayed straight faced until you stopped_

_on that riverbank there was no music to hear_

_I pulled you in close and whispered in your ear_

"_I think I know a tune you'll like"_

_So I hummed something soft and sweet_

_the stars came out as we moved our feet._

Carefully as Bree slept, he maneuvered them so that he could rest his ear over her heart and quietly he listened, feeling completely at ease.

Phil closed his eyes, remembering another time where he had felt this calm and peaceful.

_She made him laugh. _

_ It was one thing he hadn't expected when he'd finally asked her out. Sure as friends they joked around, and made sarcastic comments at the others expense but he assumed that if they dated things would be awkward. _

_ No, instead, it all seemed to make more sense. _

_ He wasn't the type to believe in love at first sight, but there was a small part of him that was a sappy romantic. And that part of him knew that this girl was special and she deserved all the romanticism he could spare for her, even if it was cheesy and corny. He figured he could do it, for her. _

_ He looked down at her as she leaned back on her elbows in the grass, staring out at the setting sun as it bled across the sky, painting colors along the bottoms of the clouds, making her smile and causing her brown eyes to light up. _

_ Standing up suddenly he stretched and her eyes turned to him curiously as he turned to her and held out his hand. The sun was fading fast behind him, setting a glow about the outline of his figure. _

_ "Dance with me?" He asked. _

_ She blinked at him, "what?" _

_ And then she laughed, letting out that raucous, unladylike noise that made him grin._

_ Slowly, her laughing stopped and she looked up to see Phil still standing there, hand extended, waiting for an answer. _

_ "You're serious?" she asked._

_ He nodded._

_ "But there's no music," she pointed out, as she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. _

_ "We don't need music," he murmured, lips at her ear, making her shiver. _

_ It should have been awkward, holding her like this when they had been friends for almost a year now, completely platonic except for the longing stares and common, harmless flirting. Instead, it felt normal and comfortable._

_ Bree closed her eyes, resting her ear on his chest, hearing his heart beat steadily and that alone served as their song as he danced them slowly in a circle, humming slightly under his breath but really there wasn't a song there at all. _

_ When they pulled apart, it was dark, the sun had set, and the moon was riding low in the sky as stars spread out on the night's inky canvas. _

Phil opened his eyes, staring along her pale skin for a blank moment as the memory slid away as did consciousness. He let his eyes slip closed and he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Bree and her heart beat in his ear.

_So won't you take my hand _

_take my heart_

_promise to never stop dancing once we start_

_oh, oh_

_'cause this is our song_

_tidal waves they rip right through me_

_tears from eyes worn cold and sad_

_pick me up now, I need you so bad_

Phil woke up on his stomach, arms folded beneath his pillow and a warmth all along his side and over his back. It was strange, he had been waking up cold and alone for three months now but having Bree back didn't feel any different, it felt natural.

"Good morning," Bree mumbled in his ear, her arm draped over his shoulder blades, her chest pressed to his side.

He grinned into his pillow before turning his head to look at her.

"Morning," he searched her face for a moment before leaning over, lips pursed for a kiss. She smirked before pressing her lips to his chastely before pulling back and laying her head back down on his shoulder.

"Can we talk now?" She asked.

He let out a breath, feeling his chest deflate but he nodded. They needed to talk as soon as possible and that morning was as good a time as ever.

"Okay," she blew out a breath, "I'm dying."

She felt his body tense but he didn't say anything.

"And there is no cure."

"There could be," he whispered softly, not wanting to get angry, "there are other trials."

"On Christmas, you told me that if I didn't want to do the treatment, that it would be okay. That you'd be okay with it. Then suddenly, that all changed," she whispered.

"I thought we still had all the time in the world then. Now, I'm realizing we don't."

"But we have enough time, I think. Three to nine months, that's not nothing."

"I know, I realize that now. I don't want to spend this time fighting with you. Sure," he sighed, "sure, I'm not ecstatic with the fact that you won't try another type of treatment but I get it."

"You do?" She asked.

"You don't want to spend the rest of your life sick. You want it to be as normal as possible."

"Exactly," she breathed, nuzzling her face into his warm skin.

"I'm trying to respect that, I'm going to be supportive of whatever decisions you make, even if I don't really agree because I want you to be happy. That's what's most important."

Bree felt the tears well up behind her eyes as she buried her face into his shoulder. He felt the cold tears on his skin and he rolled over, pulling her into his arms, tucking her beneath his chin.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick that night." He murmured, "I'm sorry for yelling at you too. I know we agreed a long time ago never to do that."

"I was afraid for a moment that we were turning into my parents," she whispered through her tears.

He stroked her short hair, "we're not," he reassured her.

She chuckled slightly, "good."

He held her and they stayed there, wrapped up in one another for a few hours.

"You're not moving out any more, are you?" He asked softly, fearing her answer.

She closed her eyes, thankful he couldn't see her face, hopefully he wouldn't catch her lie, "no."

"Then lets unpack those boxes," he whispered before slowly unraveling his arms from around her and rolling out a bed.

After a moment of hesitation she followed and forced a smile onto her lips as he turned back to grin at her.

She would still leave.

_your vows of silence fall all over _

_the look in your eyes makes me crazy_

_I feel the darkness break upon her_

_I'll take you over if you let me_

_tidal waves they rip right through me_

_tears from eyes worn cold and sad_

_pick me up now, I need you so bad_

They spent the day clearing up any misunderstandings they had, discussing feelings and making some tentative plans for their last few months together. A lot of their time consisted of being in one another's arms, their lips connected and tongues tangled. Bree had missed the cold press of his lip ring when they kissed and Phil had missed the curve her back made when he pulled her against him.

After unpacking the boxes she had packaged up the day before they ordered in take out and then snuggled on the couch, watching mindless television while really just focusing on one another, noticing the changes that had occurred in the three months they had been apart.

Then, they became reacquainted once again physically and emotionally before returning to their bedroom and falling asleep together once more like they had the previous night.

It was in that sleep where Bree found herself floating, in her bedroom at her parents house. Her mother was crying in the chair beside her bed. Matt stood by her window, his eyes moving from staring outside to back at her. Bree's father was kneeling at her bedside, holding one of her hands. She felt a pressure around her body and lifted her head to see Phil, his hazel and olive eyes staring down at her sadly, tears on his cheeks, lip ring spinning as he worried it.

She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but her throat was dry and cracked, she couldn't speak. Her lids felt heavy, like she hadn't slept in days, or possibly she'd slept too much in the past few days.

"Shh," Phil cooed, hand smoothing over her cheek before he kissed her forehead. He linked their fingers together as he stared down at her.

Something was tugging at her slowly, persistently, its nagging growing by the second.

It felt like her body was slowing disconnecting from her, the tether that held her there mentally was unraveling and she was losing her grip.

Her eyes kept slipping closed before flying opening again and she searched around wildly.

She always found Phil's face, sad, solemn. His hand was gentle on her cheek and she really wished he'd kiss her, but he never did.

Her vision began to waver a the edges, going fuzzy and dark patches danced across her sight. She gasped and her lung constricted, fighting against her. Her heart stuttered in a way that wasn't from nerves. Her body screamed and ached and begged her to let go. Her vision was going out again, as was her hearing. Phil's voice came in and out, and she could hear him whispering her name.

She felt warm and knew without being able to see that Phil was holding her, pulling her into his body, his hand still wrapped securely around hers.

There was an overload of sensation, hot, cold, rough, soft, loud, silent, agony, calm, anger, tranquility, hurt, happiness, emptiness, fullness, longing, completeness. Love.

And then nothing.

She floated in a darkness that was desolate and alone.

She could no longer feel Phil holding her, nor could she felt her father's hand in hers or feel Matt's gaze shift to her.

She floated and felt her mind erode as she left.

She was dying.

Dying, her mind held on to her last thought.

_I'm dying. _

"No!" Her eyes flew open, breathing erratic and she began to sob.

"Bree, Bree? What's wrong?"

Phil's arm reached across her, trying to pull her closer to him but instead she rolled onto her side and curled into the fetal position, clutching her pillow tightly.

It had felt so real.

"Bree," he whispered again, his voice soft. He pressed his lips to her shoulder tenderly as she continued to cry.

He thumbed away her tears from the cheek he could reach. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort her as best he could.

"A nightmare?" He asked, his voice low in her ear.

She nodded.

"Can you tell me about it?" He asked.

"I thought I was really dying."

And that was explanation enough as she rolled over, burying her face into his chest, her ear finding his heart beat and letting that tether her to the world.

_live in my house _

_I'll be your shelter _

_just pay me back _

_with one thousand kisses _

_be my lover – I'll cover you _

_open your door – I'll be your tenant _

_don't got much baggage to lay at your feet_

_but sweet kisses I've got to spare _

_I'll be there – I'll cover you_

After the nightmare, they'd spent the rest of the day together. They made breakfast together and then Bree went with him to the gym, keeping him company while she watched, not having the strength or need to do a work out of her own.

She was mostly skin and bones, her complexion much paler, eyes duller. But there was life in her again as Phil held her hand and spoke to her and whispered 'I love you' at any chance he got.

When he returned to the road it was hard on her, but she knew it would be okay.

Phil told Matt that he had talked to Bree, that everything was as it should be again in the world. Matt was glad that his two friends had reconciled. They had both been absolute wrecks since their fight.

"I'm going to propose," Phil said as he and Matt got ready for Monday Night RAW.

Matt's brows lifted, "really?"

"Yeah, I-I want her to be my wife before she dies," it was still hard for him to say the words, he cringed every time he did, but it was getting easier. He was trying to accept it, trying to take it as well as Bree was, but it was damn hard.

Matt placed a hand on his shoulder, "tell me how it goes," he said and Phil nodded.

Bree stayed in Chicago while Phil was on the road. She felt she had burdened Lee enough and that he needed time with his family. He still called almost every day and Bree enjoyed their conversations over the phone. She had never expected it, but she and Lee had becoming extremely close over the last three months.

She'd talked to her mom a couple times since she came to Chicago, once just to tell her that she and Phil were back together.

She'd spoken to her father as well, to tell him that she felt it, that she knew. He'd taken it as well as he could have, crying softly but trying to talk through his tears. He told her he loved her. She promised she'd come back home to Missouri in the next week or so.

While Phil was gone, she packed up some of the things he wouldn't notice missing from their apartment and moved them to the storage unit. Her plan was still in place, it was just delayed for a month or so.

It was strange to see her life condensed into boxes, labeled and stacked neatly in a storage unit numbered 515.

It was then that she realized May fifteenth had passed over a month ago.

She smiled to herself as she rolled the storage unit door down. Three years and this is what it would come to.

_I think they meant it _

_when they said you can't buy love _

_now I know that you can rent it _

_a new lease you are, my love, on life_

_all my life_

_I've longed to discover _

_something as true as this is _

"We missed our anniversary, y'know?" Phil mumbled as they sat together in the living room. She was sitting between his legs, her back leaning against his chest as they watched some mindless television show. They were enjoying being in each others arms. Bree had just taken a cocktail of medications that were supposed to dull the aches and cure the nausea but they made her feel strangely boneless and numb. Maybe this is what Phil was worried about when it came to prescription drugs, this is what his straightedge lifestyle warded off. She could agree with him, she didn't want to feel like this. She'd rather be sick and sleep in front of her porcelain thrown which she had become well acquainted with in the past nine months.

"I know," she mumbled back, turning herself on her side to tuck her head under his chin. His hand moved to her shoulder, rubbing slightly, soothing touches tracing along her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her temple.

"Three years together is a big thing to miss," he mused.

"I guess, especially for us."

He nodded, "what if..." he trailed off, a pensive expression on his face, "tomorrow night we pretend it's May fifteenth."

She smiled to herself, snuggling further into his warm chest, tracing his tattoos even through his shirt, knowing their designs and patterns by heart. "That sounds like it could be fun," she mumbled against his neck.

He grinned, running his fingers through the short strands of her hair, "it's a date."

"Mhmmm," she closed her eyes, nodding slightly before falling into a black unconsciousness where she floated aimlessly, numb.

/

"So where are we going?" Bree asked as Phil drove them through the streets of Chicago. He'd been tight-lipped about their plans for the night, their fake May fifteenth anniversary. They'd spent the real date not speaking to one another and now they would make up for that.

"You'll see soon."

She didn't give up easily, she badgered him for information, not wanting any surprises, even if they were romantic. At the moment, she wanted things to be obvious and laid out before her eyes so she knew what to expect because the unexpected blackness of death would be coming for her soon.

She could tell she was getting to him, however, as he began to spin his lip ring, his grip tightening on the steering wall, his left knee fidgeting. And then his rambling began, as he tried to draw her away from her questions. At first, she wasn't listening to his exact words, she was just trying to figure out why he was getting so worked up, and looking for her opening to ask where they were going when he least expected the question. Suddenly, his words seemed to filter in to her mind and she began to actually listen.

"Before all this happened, the cancer and the treatment and the fighting, I had a really elaborate yet simple plan for how to do this," he ran a hand over his head, looking anywhere but at her, keeping his eyes dutifully on the road in front of him. "But now, it just seems so frivolous and I realized, how I do it, isn't important." He turned his head to look at her briefly.

"Phil," she said his name slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly, "what are you saying?"

"I've been thinking about this for months. I've written it out, rehearsed it in my head, had each word perfectly picked out." He let out a sigh, "and then they told us you're going to die and suddenly, the words were different, they didn't make sense anymore, the whole big scheme I had planned, that just seemed ridiculous, pointless."

"Phil." She said his name again but it was like he didn't hear her.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm the one who's sick and dying, because you're always holding me, I'm the one who's falling apart usually. And I get it, we're in a relationship, a partnership, that's what we do. We take care of each other. We say and do stupid things just to make each other laugh. We hold hands and we cuddle on cold mornings, we sit together and read, I protect you from spiders and you," his eyes met hers briefly, something clear and nameless in his eyes, "you protect me from being alone.

"Since that night, in the rain, in the parking lot when you gave me a ride back to the hotel, my thoughts have been consumed by you. At first, I thought it was just another thing, a really strong attraction. God, and then you made me laugh, and you made me think about what I said and worry what I acted like and I felt like such a chick at first. And then, it just clicked and I knew I was really in love with you.

"I've never felt as scared as I did that night when you were rushed to the ER, when they were folding you up into that ambulance and I thought you were going to leave me right then," his hand reached out, finding hers, linking their fingers, "and you came back to me," he smiled sadly, eyes glassy as he stared at the road ahead of him, "now, I know I'll always been tied to you, that I'll always belong to you, but there's only so many more steps that we can actually take in our current situation, and I.." he trailed off, clearing his throat, his face feeling unnaturally hot.

"Phil?"

"I can't think of the right way to do this, but I know I need to ask."

"Phil, what...?"

"Bree, I.."

"Phil, what's going on?" She asked, frustrated.

The car jerked to a stop as he pulled over on the side of the road, throwing the car into park and turning to face her suddenly.

"I'm trying to propose to you!"

The explosion of sound was sudden and unexpected in the cabin of the car compared to the soft tone he had been speaking with up until that point.

Bree stared at him, utterly speechless at his outburst.

She'd fantasized about him proposing before, of course. In some dramatic, romantic event that matched her dream proposal fantasy without her even having to drop a hint at him.

It was the inconvenience and the suddenness of this proposal that made it feel utterly perfect, better than all of those fantasies combined.

Phil stared at her, waiting for some kind of response and as the silence slid onward, ticking minutes by on the dashboard clock, he fidgeted, worried that she hadn't answered him yet.

"Bree," he started hesitantly, haltingly.

"No."

He blinked, the word sounding foreign, inconceivable to his ear. He opened his mouth to ask her to clarify when she said it again.

"No. It's a no, Phil."

"What? Why?" He blinked in confusion at her, mouth hanging slightly open.

She swallowed, trying to think of words that would make this sound like less of a rejection.

"I don't want to make you a widower," she said.

"Oh, come on Bree." He said, shaking his head, his face taking on an agitated scowl.

"Okay, fine. I don't want to spend the last months of my life fighting over what color tablecloth we're going to use and where we're going to sit my awkward cousin Martha. I want things to be simple for us, like they've always been. We're two complicated people but together we just make so much damn sense."

"Then why not get married. We've talked about it before, we've always said it was in our cards."

"It's not any more."

"Why not?"

"Because we'll get married and a month later I'll be dead and it'll be all for nothing."

"It wouldn't be all for nothing."

"You'd just have another memory of me to mourn, it wouldn't be happy anymore after I die. I'll be sick and ugly and not what I pictured myself as on my wedding day and I'd rather leave you as your girlfriend instead of your wife. Do you know how much debt I have from the treatment and the doctor appointments. I'm not leaving that to you when I die. I know you love me, I know what you mean to me I don't need a ring or a marriage license to prove those things." She shook her head, eyes tight, lips trembling, "I just need you."

He reached out a hand, cupping her cheek, "Bree."

She continued, "I don't need anything from you, no material thing, no legal title," she placed her hand over his, curling her fingers over his palm, "I just need you with me while I'm still here. You don't need to be my husband to do that."

"But-"

She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly, "no."

He sighed heavily, seeing that she wasn't going to change her mind on the matter and he let it go. In his heart, she'd be his wife, even if legally she wouldn't ever be.

/

They lay together on the hood of his car, his arms around her, her head on his chest, staring up at the stars.

"I have a ring," he muttered.

She closed her eyes, "I figured."

She felt him move as he slid the small box out of his pocket and then he gently, slowly sat up. She sat up with him and braced herself on her hand, turning to look at him.

He handed her the box and she looked at him, refusing to take the box, they'd already had this discussion.

"Phil, I-" she started.

He placed the box in her hand, "just wear it, for me. It's yours."

She opened the box with a shaking hand and lifted the glittering ring out of the velvet pillow.

It was a thin white gold band, several small square diamonds embedded around the band and in the center a large square diamond stood out proudly. It was beautiful in its simplicity, just as she would want it to be.

Carefully, she turned the ring in her fingers and glanced up at Phil to see him watching her intently with a sad smile on his face. She tilted it and something caught the light and cast shadows on something on the inside of the band. She leaned in closer to the ring, eyes squinting to see what was there.

Etched onto the inside of the ring were the words _"Love Always, In Sun and Rain. -Phil" _

The tears came to her eyes suddenly and her throat constricted as she lifted her eyes to Phil's. He took the ring from her before taking her hand gently in his. He slid the ring onto her left ring finger and she closed her eyes as it slid perfectly into place, a sob wracking her body as he did so, her shoulders shaking, her heart aching.

His thumb stroked away a lone tear that had fallen, "shhh," he murmured to her before pressing his lips to her forehead, pausing there for a moment, closing his eyes, his brows pulling together.

"I have nothing to give back to you," she whispered.

He pulled back, shaking his head, "you gave me the last three years of your life, I think that's enough," and he kissed her breathless and she felt every emotion he held for her in that one kiss, that bled into a thousand more as he laid them back down on the hood of his car, curling his arms around her, comforting her in a way only he could, covering her from the cold and the loneliness and the fear for one silent, sweet night.

Holding her against his heart, he realized that that moment was much better than any wedding ceremony or proposal they could've planned.

_so with a thousand sweet kisses_

_I'll cover you _

_with a thousand sweet kisses _

_I'll cover you _

_when you're worn out and tired_

_when your heart has expired _

_if you're cold, and you're lonely _

_with a thousand sweet kisses _

_I'll cover you _

_oh lover I'll cover you _


	9. Please Remember Me

_**Where oh where have my reviewers gone? Oh where oh where can they be? **_

_**Well I was hoping to get to 100 reviews by the end of the fic but, I'm not so sure that'll happen now. Oh wells! But I would like to thank those who did review: **Addy**, **DanniChappell**, and **DeathDaisy **you guys are just great. **_

_**Another song that I feel really fits this story, specifically this chapter and the last is Hallelujah. Which I'm sure we've all heard a million times, in a million different covers. Personally, I like the more simplistic versions—the original version by Leonard Cohen, the well-known Jeff Buckley version, Bon Jovi's rendition and the cover by Espen Lind, Askil Holm, Alejandro Fuentes, and Kurt Nilsen. For a more dramatic, bigger cover, I love KD Lang's performance of it. **_

_**Anyways, it's one of my favorite songs of all time and I just wanted to share with you guys some of my thoughts while I'm writing :) **_

_**Now, enjoy the second to last chapter of this fic. **_

_**Onward and upward,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel **_

_**Songs Used In This Chapter: When Your Heart Stops Beating by +44, Now Comes The Night by Rob Thomas, Save You by Simple Plan, Atlantic by Keane, Getting Late by Rob Thomas, Somewhere With You by Kenny Chesney, It Will Rain by Bruno Mars, Headlights On The Highway by Ron Pope, I Could Not Ask For More by Edwin McCain, Uncloudy Day by Brad Paisley, Daylight by Maroon 5, and Please Remember Me by Tim McGraw**_

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter IX: Please Remember Me**_

_I'll be there when your heart stops beating_

_I'll be there when your last breath's taken away_

_In the dark when there's no one listening_

_In the times when we both get carried away_

_When we both get carried away_

"What does the bottle look like?" Phil asked as he pulled open the nightstand drawer next to Bree's side of the bed.

"Like any other prescription pill bottle," she replied from the bathroom, where she sat curled up next to the toilet.

"Right," he muttered under his breath as he rummaged through the drawer, pushing aside stray earrings and photos and notes he had left her.

As his fingers dove down to the bottom of the drawer at the back they pumped against a ridge. His eyebrows furrowed as his fingers searched blindly for the ledge of the object. Upon finding it he grasped it's thin girth and tugged.

A simple calendar slid out of the drawer, opened to the current month, July.

The red x's stood out on the page, fitting perfectly into the boxes, slashing through the dates. The x's stopped on the current day and he swallowed as he flipped the page back to the previous month, June. All of the boxes were crossed out with red ink. With a sinking feeling he flipped ahead a few months, to September.

His throat contracted as his heart jumped in his chest.

On September 23, 2013 the words "first last day" were written.

"Phil, never mind, I'm okay now, the nausea is gone," Bree muttered as she leaned against the bathroom doorway, looking into their bedroom. "Phil?" she asked when he didn't turn to face her or respond in any way.

Hearing his name snapped him out of his stupor as he stared at the calendar. Suddenly he whipped around to face her, "what the hell is this?"

Her eyes fell to the calender in his hand.

She shook her head slightly, chin dipping, biting the inside of her cheek, "Phil," his name came out as a sigh.

"Why are you keeping track of how many days you have left? What kind of sick game is that?"

"Phil, I told you. I'm okay with dying."

"No, no one is _okay_ with dying."

"Seriously Phil, I mean it."

"Well then, I'm not okay with it!"

There it was, the words were out.

The honesty shook Breann as she stared at him.

Of course, she knew it wouldn't be easy for him to accept it, but if she could accept it, then he could as well. He was just being stubborn.

"Phil—,"

"No." He cut her off with the single word. Stern, resolute.

He continued, "I will never be okay with you dying. Not now, not when you're one hundred and one fucking years old."

Bree's eyes tightened up as she felt the tears swell.

"Phil, I-" she began but he shook his head, dropping the calender and approaching her. He took purposeful steps around their bed, across the floor until he stood directly in front of her. Taking her face between his hands, his eyes locked with Bree's.

"I promise you, I'm going to be there with you, by your side, until the very end," his thumbs stroked her cheeks though there were no tears falling to be wiped away. She was having a hard time holding back her tears for she knew he probably couldn't make good on that promise. Her plan was still in motion, it was just going slowly.

Bree swallowed thickly and had no choice but to continue staring up into Phil's eyes.

"I'm going to need to be there, to believe it."

_Now comes the night, feel it fading away_

_and the soul underneath, is it all that remains?_

_So just slide over here, leave your fear in the fray_

_Let us hold to each other until the end of our days_

"Bree, come sit down," Phil murmured, his head leaning back against the couch as he turned to watch her pad through the kitchen.

"Just a second," she replied as he heard her rummaging through her purse.

His eyes moved back to the TV, watching it but not really seeing anything. His head lifted once more when he felt Bree sit down beside him.

First, he took in her expression, her eyebrows pulled together, lips pursed, eyes tense and he knew something was wrong.

Her right hand was fiddling with the ring dangling from her necklace. She's refused his proposal but he insisted she keep the ring. So, to pacify him, she strung the ring on a chain and hadn't taken the necklace off since the morning after his failed proposal.

In her left hand, she held a key.

"Bree?" he asked, reaching out, letting his fingers ghost along her cheek.

Her eyes suddenly lifted to meet his and she took a deep breath before letting go of her necklace and lifting that hand to remove his fingers from her cheek. She turned his hand over so that his palm was facing up and she placed the key she had been holding in his palm.

When she drew her hand away he studied the key.

It was their apartment key he realized. She was giving it back to him.

His heart ached, a pain shooting straight through him.

"Keep it Bree," he murmured, shaking his head slowly.

"I won't need it for much longer," she whispered back, eyes lowering.

He reached out quickly, reaching behind her neck, undoing the clasp of her necklace and catching the chain deftly. Without a word he slid the key onto the chain, next to her ring and then reached back around her. Clasping the chain once more, he let his fingers follow the golden links around until his hand rested over her heart.

"I'd rather pretend you're not leaving. So just keep it."

Her brown eyes lifted and he smiled sadly before reaching into the front of his t-shirt and pulling out the chain and key she had given him for Christmas. He ran the pad of his thumb over the ridges of the key, over the numbers 515.

"Now we match," he said before reaching out and pulling her back against his body.

_And when the hour is upon us and our beauty surely gone_

_No, you will not be forgotten and you will not be alone_

_No, you will not be alone._

Bree allowed Phil to pull her against him, settling back against his chest, letting his arms come around her, to hold her.

He was unnaturally silent and she knew he was thinking but the quiet was driving her mad.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, turning her head slightly towards him but from her position she couldn't look directly at him.

"My life without you." He replied.

"What about it?" She asked.

"I just feel guilty that I'm going to get to get married, and have kids and grow old and..."

"And I'm not," Bree finished for him.

He sighed, his breath brushing against the back of her neck and she felt him nod.

"It's okay. It's not like you chose this." She shrugged.

"I would never choose this for you. Every day I wish it had been me instead."

"You wouldn't have been able to handle it," Bree muttered with a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "I would never wish this on you, Phil. I-I couldn't have watched you die like you've been watching me."

"You wouldn't have left," he said, convinced.

"Maybe not, but I wouldn't have been as strong as you have been. Not by a long shot."

_You'll never know the way it tears me up inside to see you_

_I wish that I could tell you something_

_to take it all away_

_sometimes I wish I could save you_

_and there's so many things that I want you to know_

_I won't give up till it's over_

_if it takes you forever I want you to know_

The fevers are what scared him, the intense shaking, the cold sweats. The way she would curl up to him and clutch at his shirt for dear life and refused to close her eyes were terrifying moments were he felt himself quiver on the very spine of the ledge between sanity and insanity.

He felt himself losing her, little pieces of her, slowly.

At first, it was physical intimacy and he couldn't blame her for that. She was frail and sick and her body was revolting against her. He wouldn't complain about how they weren't having sex, it was the furthest thing from his mind. But it was a piece of her, a part of their relationship that he knew was gone and probably wouldn't return.

They were still affectionate, hands intertwined, holding each other, gentle kisses and sweet strokes of their fingers but it was more about comforting Bree as she fell apart physically.

He told her he'd stay with her to the end and that's where he'd be.

_when I hear your voice_

_its drowning in a whisper_

_it's just skin and bones_

_there's nothing left to take_

_and no matter what I do I can't make you feel better_

_if only I could find the answer_

_to help me understand _

Bree winced as she got up from the couch and walked woodenly into the kitchen where Phil was making her a cup of tea.

"Sit back down," he murmured, crossing the length of the kitchen to place a hand on her waist and a kiss on her forehead.

"No, I'm fine, I needed to get up." She said with a hesitant smile, "I feel much better today."

Phil studied her for a moment, not wanting to take her words as true without having fully investigate. He saw the truth in her eyes, and the fact that she was standing was testament enough.

He felt the smile curl his lips without consenting to the movement of his muscle. "That's good to hear," he murmured, cupping the back of her head, kissing her temple again.

She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in deeply, enjoying his scent and the feel of his warm, strong body—so opposite of hers—and she was grateful for having someone so stable in her life.

The squealing of the teapot on the stove made Bree start giggling.

She remembered the face Phil had made two years ago on her birthday, shortly after she'd moved in with him, when she asked for a teapot. It was the only thing on her Christmas present and he couldn't understand why she would want one. She couldn't explain why she would rather brew her tea in a pot instead of a singular cup, but she liked the nostalgia of it.

Her grandma always brewed her tea in a real teapot, on a stove and her tea was always the best.

"Tea's ready," Phil murmured in her ear.

"Thank you Captain Obvious."  
"You're welcome Sargent Smartass."

She grinned, stepping away from him and sitting on one of the bar stools as Phil told her he'd fix up her cup of tea.

She watched him as he moved, grabbing the bottle of honey from the cupboard and setting it on the counter as he picked up the tea pot off the stove. He located her favorite mug and set it on the counter, poured tea into it and added the honey before walking around the island counter and setting the mug down in front of her.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Anything for you," he replied, leaning in to kiss her lips softly.

/

The next day was different, the body aches so bad Bree couldn't even get out a bed.

Phil, with suitcase packed and propped up against the wall by the front door, sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You need to go, or you'll miss your flight," Bree said, rolling her eyes to look up at him. "I'll be fine."

"I can call my sister if you need someone, actually, I'm going to go call her right now," Phil went to stand up but Bree's hand weakly wrapped around his. He turned and looked back at her.

She smiled appreciatively at him, "I'll be okay Phil. If I need Chaleen I'll call her, I have her number."

Phil sighed heavily but nodded.

"Can I have a kiss?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

"Like I could deny you that," he whispered as he leaned over her, pressing his lips against hers, allowing her to deepen the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue.

Her blunt, bitten down nails scraped against his lower back where his shirt rode up and he breathed in sharply as she tugged on his lip ring.

Pulling back, he smirked down at her, "someone's feisty today," he commented.

She dropped back onto the bed, forcing herself not to flinch as her bones protested the quick movements. Bree shrugged, "I'm going to miss you. Wanted to give you something to look forward to when you come back."

"Bree," he said slowly, leaning in to her, kissing her cheek, "you don't have to _do _anything for me."

"Even if I want to?" She asked, turning her head and arching a brow.

Phil pulled back slightly, "is it-," he sighed, "if you're in pain, there's no way-"

She placed a finger over his lips, "we'll see when you get back, yeah?"

He sighed and nodded before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before straightening up.

"I miss you already," she called as he walked out the doorway into the hall.

"Love you," he called back and she smiled to herself before curling up into her blankets, trying to block out the pain that radiated from every inch of her body, praying the pain would go away.

_If you fall, stumble down_

_I'll pick you up off the ground_

_if you lose faith in you _

_I'll give you strength to pull through_

_tell me you won't give up cause I'll be waiting if you fall_

_oh you know I'll be there for you_

"Bree?" Phil called as he pushed open the door to their apartment and stepped inside.

She wasn't in the kitchen, or the living room. He began walking down the hall, calling out to her again.

"Phil?" Her voice was small as he entered the bedroom and his eyes glanced around, trying to take purchase on her, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Phil?" Her voice croaked again and this time he turned to the bathroom.

He threw open the door and immediately felt a crack in his chest at the sight before him.

"Bree," her name escaped him in a breath as he crossed the bathroom, reaching out, turning the shower off, not caring that his head fell into the freezing cold spray.

Bree lay in the tub, naked and tangled up in the shower curtain, the shower rod having falling from where it was balanced between the two walls. There were light bruises forming where the rod had fallen and hit her.

"Is anything broken," he asked, his hand cupping her cheek as she bit down on her lip, embarrassed.

"I-I don't think so. I just," she tilted her head back against the wet, tiled wall, "I'm in too much pain to move." She was mortified by being found like she was.

She'd been taking a shower, knowing Phil would be home in a few hours and she wanted to look good for him. She had woken up that morning feeling close to normal, disregarding the dull, persistent ache in her bones that was always there now.

A shower had seemed like such a simple task until the dizziness his and she fell, hands grasping at the shower curtain as she began to fall. Too much weight on the rod caused it to fall from the wall, smacking painfully against her shoulder and forehead. She fell, back scraping the tub faucet, head bumping the tiled wall as the curtain tangled between her legs as she tried to get out of the shower at the same time.

She hadn't moved once she'd settled in a heap on the shower floor. One of her arms was pinned in the shower curtain and the other was gripping onto the tub wall, throbbing in pain. She hadn't turned the shower off, instead she'd sat there, feeling the heat drain from the water as it went from pleasantly hot, to warm, to room temperature, to slightly cold, to shockingly freezing.

Now, shivering and broken, Phil scooped her up into his arms, ignoring the cold dampness of her body.

He closed the toilet lid with his elbow and then set Bree down. He took a towel from the rack, setting it on the counter as he turned back to Bree.

Slowly, he untwisted the shower curtain from around her as she kept her chin tucked down, eyes low in embarrassment.

Phil threw the shower curtain aside, pushing the shower rod out of the way as well before grabbing the towel and wrapping it around Bree's shoulders.

She still refused to look up at him, so he crouched down in front of her, his hands holding her neck.

"Bree, I need to know if something's broken, okay?" he asked.

She nodded, shredding her bottom lip with her teeth as she took in each part of her body, starting with the flexing of her fingers and the curling of her toes. She tested her arms and legs next. The pain was the ordinary pain, nothing traumatic like a broken bone.

"Nothing's broken." She whispered and Phil nodded, eyes studying her for a moment.

"It's okay, Bree," he murmured.

"It's not okay Phil." Her lip trembled, "nothing's okay. I-I can't even take a shower by myself."

"It was a freak thing."

He was desperately trying to reassure her. His fingertips slid along her jaw, taking a hold of it, forcing her to look up at him.

The tears in her eyes broke his heart. He dropped from the balls of his feet to his knees, leaning into her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his ear over her heart.

Slowly, she leaned back against him, laying her arms over his shoulder, resting her chin on his head. They stayed like that for several minutes until Phil felt a thick shiver run through Bree.

He pulled back, smoothing her hair back as he stood, "let's get you warmed up."

Gently he bent and picked her up bridal style, carefully he carried her through the doorway, into their bedroom where he set her down on the end of the bed.

He walked around the room, gathering her underwear, a tank top, and a pair of flannel pajama pants that she loved.

Kneeling before her, he helped her slid on the clothes, going slowly, taking things carefully so that he didn't tug her or move her arms too quickly.

Bree just stared at the floor as he helped her dress.

When she was fully clothed again she shivered still and Phil pressed a kiss to her forehead as he pushed himself to his feet. He took the wet towel back into the bathroom and returned with a dry one.

He sat behind her on the bed and tenderly he scrubbed the dry towel along her hair that curled around her ears now, almost to her chin. He dried the wet tendrils and then kissed her shoulder, setting the towel aside.

"I love you," he murmured against her bare skin.

"Thank you," she whispered back, voice cracked.

He just nodded wordlessly, "lay down, I'm going to change and then make you some tea."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

_if only I could find the answer_

_to take it all away_

_I wish I could save you_

Phil sat outside on the lip of the curb, elbows on knees, head in hands, a crumbled, folded piece of paper between his fingers.

"Why can't there be a fucking cure?" He cursed under his breath, fingers curling into his hair, which he had been growing back to its longer length because he knew how Bree liked it long.

"Fuck," he muttered, stuffing the paper and pen into his jacket pocket before lacing his fingers across the back of his neck as he leaned forward, forcing deep breaths in and out.

"I can't lose her, I fucking can't," he whispered, voice a high whine, cracking along words that he had once said without a hitch. The end was nearing, he could feel it. She was slipping away, losing parts of herself and small movements that in the end would ruin her.

His body shook and he felt utterly helpless because nothing could save her.

_I hope all my days will be lit by your face_

_I hope all the years will hold tight our promises_

_I don't want to be old and sleep alone_

_An empty house is not a home_

_I don't want to be old and feel afraid_

July came and went slowly and August slid into their present, leaving Bree with a month and a half before they even knew it.

Phil wasn't sure how, or why, but by some miracle, after that day he found her collapsed in the shower, Bree had been getting monumentally better, feeling stronger, being able to do things again. He hadn't asked questions, just accepted the small miracles that gave him bits and pieces of his Bree back.

The new pain medication Dr. Salazar prescribed Bree was working wonders when paired with the anti-nausea pills as well. The bone and body aches were bearable, manageable and not as often. The dizziness and fevers were gone, signs that her immune system was working once more.

She hadn't told Phil and he hadn't asked, so they just appreciated her strength while it lasted.

Bree hummed to herself as she stood in front of the washing, basket of dirty clothes by her feet, one of Phil's black hoodies in her hands.

Phil had returned from a week and a half on the road and she felt good enough that day to do some chores around the house. While Phil nobly took the bathroom duty, she did laundry.

Dutifully, she emptied to the pockets of the hoodie, like she did with all of their clothes to keep from loose bits being flung around in the washing machine.

Her eyebrows furrowed as her fingers scraped against paper in the pocket of Phil's hoodie. She got a hold on the paper between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it out of the pocket. It was worn, crumpled, some tears along the edges, it looked like it had gone through some hell before being shoved into his pocket.

Slowly, she unfolded the paper and once it was flattened out her eyes slid over the words on the page. The handwriting was familiar, she knew it was Phil's.

_If I Lose Her_

_Christmas will never be the same, neither will the snow_

_My bed will be colder _

_My beard will grow longer_

_50 First Dates will cease to be funny_

_All my smiles will be faked, or half-assed_

_I'll become completely antisocial _

_My sarcasm will get out of hand and even more offensive_

_Probably won't have any friends after a while except Colt_

The list continued on for a few more lines and with each fragment of a sentence her throat closed up more and more, and as she neared the end, her vision blurred.

_I won't get the future I really wanted._

She dropped the paper onto the top of the washing machine as one hand came up to cover her mouth as a soundless sob escaped her.

"Hey, Bree, do you know where...Bree?"

Phil stepped into the laundry room, "Bree, what's wrong?"

"Did you want me to find this?" She asked, picking up the piece of paper and turning around, thrusting the list at him.

His eyebrows bunched up I confusion as he took the paper from her, his eyes left hers for a moment to read the words on the page. When he realized what she had found, his head fell to the side slightly as he looked back up at her, "Bree," he reached a hand out but she brushed past him, out of the room.

He followed after her, "Bree, c'mon, it was just me venting on a bad day."

"On a bad day? Phil, you're looking at it like every day after I'm gone is going to be a bad day," She motioned with her hand at him as she whipped around to face him.

"Bree..." he started and saw her anger deflate, and something else he couldn't decipher replaced it.

"You smiled...y'know, before me." She whispered, her expression softening, shoulders slumping.

"Yeah, before I met you." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So,you can do that again, you've done it before." She said, shrugging, taking a step toward him.

"Before you. From now on, everything is after you. The person I was before you is not the person I am now, because of you. I didn't know how to really smile until after I met you." Phil whispered as Bree took another step closer.

She was within reach and he reached out for her.

Her hand slid into his and she wrapped her fingers tightly around his fingers, lifting his hand to her cheek before she turned her head and kissed his palm. "I know you'll be okay Phil."

"How do you know?" He asked, "how do you know I won't fall apart?"

"Because I've spent the past year teaching you how to put yourself back together." She smiled sadly, "in preparation."

_And if I need anything at all_

_I need a place that's hidden in the deep_

_where lonely angels sing you to your sleep_

_though all the world is broken_

_I need a place where I can make my bed_

_a lover's lap where I can lay my head _

_'cause now the room is spinning_

_the day's beginning_

Her hand left his on her cheek as her fingers slid up his chest, coming to rest on his shoulders.

"What will you do after I'm gone?" She asked.

He shook his head, eyes closing, "I don't like to think about it."

"Well, think about it, right now." She insisted.

"Bree, I can't," he started but she cut him off.

"Yes you can, the only thing stopping you is your fear of accepting that fact that the world won't end because I die. People die all the time Phil, and the ones they love keep on going. Stopping your life after I'm gone would be like spitting on my memory. Don't disrespect me like that.

"You've got a home, you've got a career, you've got friends and a great family. All of that will still be here after I'm gone, you've got all of them to depend on instead me. You'll be fine, maybe not immediately, but eventually. Eventually, you'll be able to think about me, and it won't hurt. You'll remember my face, or something I said, and it won't make you feel sick, your heart won't ache. You'll smile and be grateful for those memories, for what time we did have."

"There are so many things we'll never get to do," Phil whispered.

Bree smiled sadly, "but there were so many things we did get to do."

_'Cause it's getting late, it's time to go_

_The paper moon is fading slow_

_but the night, it keeps moving on_

_'til it takes you in; it brings you home_

In a phone call with Matt, Bree mentioned how Phil would be on the road for the last week of August and the first week of September, that he was flying out the following day.

Matt flew down two days later to surprise her, showing up with a Jack London novel and caramel corn, his arm wrapped in a sling from a minor in-ring injury.

He read to her, because she'd told him once that she loved listening to his voice but she couldn't explain why.

They ate junk food, drank soda and watched crappy TV.

As they lay on the couch one night, under a shared blanket Bree sighed and Matt turned his head in question.

"I'm sorry I'm not gonna be there the night you win your first WWE Championship," she said, turning head to look at him.

For a moment, she thought he'd react like Phil would.

But then Matt smiled sadly, "me too." He turned to stare back at the TV, not really watching it, "what, about two weeks til the year mark?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p'.

"I can't believe it's already been that long. It feels like it was just yesterday that I got that call from Phil."

"I have a plan," Bree said and Matt raised his eyebrows.

"You have a plan? A plan for what?" He asked.

"A plan for what's going to happen and I was hoping that you could help me."

"Bree, you should know you don't even need to ask."

"But I will, because my plan is to leave."

As he stared at her incredulously she explained her reasoning and her plan, where she would go, what she would do, if she would return. She's gone over every possibility of what could happen and she had a plan for each.

"Does Phil know about this plan?"

"No." She responded haltingly.

"When are you going to tell him?"

"I don't plan on telling him beforehand."

"So what, you're just going to disappear without saying anything to him? Bree, he's going to lose his shit if you do that."

"It'll be fine, I wrote a letter, it explains everything. And I won't just leave out of the blue."

Realization dawned on Matt, "you're leaving on the twenty-third."

Bree pressed her lips together and nodded. On the one year anniversary of her diagnosis, she would leave.

"Matt, what I really want your help with is planning my funeral because I need everything decided and planned out before I leave," she looked up at him, locking their eyes, "will you please help me with that Matt?"

He sighed, gaze softening, "of course I will Bree."

_While you're watching over_

_the moments that make up your life_

_It's getting late, that's the way it is_

_you can't deny when it feel like this_

_and it's strange what it's bringing out_

_you're gonna open up, 'cause you can't stop now_

_oh, you can't stop now_

"I um, I want to show a video montage, of photos and stuff from backstage," Bree said as she lay on her stomach on the living room floor. Matt was on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table, a pad of paper in his lap as they made plans.

"Oh, and I want there to be a live band. I want people to dance."

"What about food?" He asked.

"All my favorite foods. And don't let my mom make everything, I want it catered. I don't want her to do any work."

"Do you want anyone to say a few words?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to. My brother, Lee, he's going to. If he can, Phil. And either Eve or Barbie, or both." She shrugged.

"Well, I'll contact the funeral home in Cairo when it's time," Matt said with a nod.

Bree smiled at him gratefully, "thank you for this Matt."

He smiled back at her before patting the couch next to him, "come here."

She got up and sat down next to him, ducking under his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love you Smoochie," he said.

"Love you too Matt, you're the best best friend ever."

They both chuckled softly and stared at the TV, but their minds were elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts of when and how.

When and how she would die.

_I'd much rather sleep somewhere with you_

_Like we did on the beach last summer_

_when the rain came down and we took cover_

_down in your car, out by the pier_

_you laid me down, whispered in my ear_

_I hate my life, hold on to me_

_ah, If you ever decide to leave_

_then I'll go, I'll go, I'll go_

_somewhere with you_

_I'm somewhere with you_

_somewhere with you_

"Bree, I'm home," Phil called as he closed the front door behind him and wheeled his suitcase down the hall to their bedroom.

"Just a minute," she called from the bathroom.

He sighed, lifted his suitcase onto the bed, unzipping it and taking out his dirty clothes, dumping them in the hamper.

Then he closed the suitcase and carried it into the walk in closet, putting it in the spot he always did when he was going to be home for a few days.

He turned to leave the closet but stopped upon seeing Bree's suitcase lying flat on the floor, opened, with several stacks of folded clothes inside.

She was packing a bag.

He leaned down and gripped the sides of the suitcase and carried it out into the bedroom, dropping it onto their bed as Bree exited the bathroom.

"Hey, it's good to have you back," she greeted, wrapping her arms around him from behind, rising on her toes to see what he was staring at.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at her own suitcase.

"Were you planning on leaving?" He asked, voice cold.

"Phil," she started, letting go of him, taking a step back so he could turn around to face her.

He sighed, taking off his baseball cap, dragging his fingers roughly through his hair, "I don't get that...why, why would you be planning to leave?" He shook his head, staring at her, waiting for an answer.

This was why she didn't want to tell him about her plan, he would react like this. He would think he had done something wrong, when it had nothing to do with his actions at all.

"Where are you even going?" He asked, "home? To Missouri?"

"No," she said suddenly, surprised she had even spoken.

He lifted his brows, waiting for her to continue.

"I-I," she floundered, "I want to travel before I die, okay? I'm going on a trip for a while, to see some things before I go." It was only partially a lie and she clung to the fact that there was some truth behind it.

She was suddenly bombarded by the memories of the trip they took down to the beach the previous summer and the warm rain and the ocean and how beautiful that had been.

She pushed the memories down.

"You're just going to go by yourself. Bree, what if something happens while you're gone?" He paused, "why didn't I know about this? Why aren't we going together? I'll go with you," he said, "I can get the time off. Vince knows about the twenty-third, he'd be understanding."

That was another thing, she knew he would insist on going with her. That would be completely counterproductive seeing as she was leaving to get away from Phil so that he wouldn't have to watch her die. Him going with her would make the trip and the plan altogether pointless.

_If you ever leave me baby,_

_leave some morphine at my door_

_'cause it would take a whole lot of medication_

_to realize what we used to have,_

_we don't have it anymore._

"No!" She suddenly shouted, the word erupting from her lips like an unexpected volcano.

Phil's eyebrows furrowed as the hurt crossed his face.

"No, I don't want you to go with me! It would make the whole point of me leaving pointless!" She knew she sounded ridiculous and petty but she was losing her resolve not to tell him.

"Bree, what's going on?" he asked, throwing his arms out, looking broken and hopeless.

"I'm leaving Phil. I'm leaving so you won't have to watch me die. Because I don't want you to see that. I don't want you to have to remember how I look when my heart stop's beating, I don't want you to remember me staring off with lifeless eyes. I don't want that for you, and I don't want that for me. I don't want you there when I die. I don't want _anyone _there."

She didn't know she was crying until she felt the tear drops dive off of her chin and land on her chest, dampening her shirt in little spots.

Phil was crying too, she realized.

_Cause there'll be no sunlight_

_if I lose you, baby_

_there'll be no clear skies_

_if I lose you, baby_

_just like the clouds_

_my eyes will do the same, _

_if you walk away_

_every day it will rain, rain, rain, rain..._

"So then, when are you leaving?" He asked, a bitter undertone to his voice as he scrubbed at his cheek with his sleeve.

Bree stared at him, taking in a deep breath through her nose, trying to choke back the tears. The cold silence that stretched between was something Bree could never get used to.

For once, in the past three years that she'd known him, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. She couldn't tell if he was hurt, angry, accepting. She had no clue, nothing tipped her because he had constructed a stone cold mask over his features as he forced his tears to stop and he just stared at her.

_Don't just say, goodbye_

_I'll pick up these broken pieces 'til I'm bleeding_

_If that'll make it right._

"Were you even going to say goodbye?" He asked, his voice small, cracked, strained and the mask fell away, shattered to pieces as she saw exactly what he felt.

Hurt, broken, terrified.

"Of course I was going to say goodbye," she whispered, taking a step toward him.

He lifted his chin as she reached out, her fingertips sliding along his jaw.

Her lips brushed his in a touch that wasn't a kiss because they just breathed and didn't seal their lips together.

Phil pressed his forehead to hers, "and there's no way I can change your mind?"

"No Phil. I'm going to leave." She swallowed thickly before he kissed her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as their kiss broke.

His fingers slid into her hair, which kissed the nape of her neck now, and he clutched her to him as suddenly the certainty that he had had about the next two weeks was ripped away.

_With my fingertips I trace on your bare skin_

_all of the things I'd like to say but cannot speak_

_you mean everything _

_there're not quite words enough to tell you_

_all the things that you've become for me_

_and the headlights on the highway cannot help me understand _

_whatever it is you need_

_I pray I am_

_and I don't need no secrets_

_I give up on lies_

_If it's gonna rain I'd rather know then be caught blind._

September 23, 2013.

Bree stared at the date on her calendar before swallowing thickly and crossing it out with a bright red x.

She heard the front door thud against the wall as it was thrust open and it startled her. She stood up the from the bed, setting the calendar down on the bedside table.

She turned in time to see Phil walk determinedly into their bedroom.

The minute he had walked into the apartment he had seen the boxes, packed and labeled. He'd known what day it was, thought about what he would do once he got home while he was on the plane. Now he was home and it was real. She was going to leave.

He slammed open the door, kicking it shut, threw down his bad, not caring where it landed and unzipped his hoodie, shrugging it off as he walked down the hall to their bedroom.

He crossed the threshold, his eyes finding Bree immediately as she set something down—the calendar—and then turned to face him.

His hands were warm as one took a hold of her waist and the other slid from her chin to cup her jaw as his lips were suddenly, hungrily on hers. Shocked and trying to reciprocate as fast as she could, Bree's hands lifted, sliding slowly up his chest, feeling the ripple of his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

His lip ring pressed against her lips, a cold metal bite before she opened her mouth to him, their tongues twining. Trailing hands of fire lost names and owners as they touched each other, theirs lips attentive to any skin placed before them.

Bree was panting as Phil suddenly lifted her and her ankles instinctively crossed at the small of Phil's back as his lips left hers to trail heat down her neck.

As she acclimated to the passion, suspicious began to set in.

"Phil," she couldn't help the little moan that left her as his hand cupped her right breast as he sucked a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, leaving a red mark that pleased him. "What's gotten into you?"

He pulled back, and the sudden stop of their pace sent her in a tailspin. She yearned to have his lips back on hers, his hands on her skin. She blinked at him, seeing him trying to hide his knowing smirk.

"Nothing, I'm just trying to make the most of our last night together."

Her heart ached for a moment but suddenly he was kissing her again, erasing words from her lips with his as he laid her back on their bed. His fingertips rolled the hem of her shirt upward, revealing skin to him that he knew as well as his own. Eventually, he removed the fabric from her but she felt he took much too long.

Annoyed by his taunting slowness, she removed his shirt quickly, ripping it from his back before she slid down hid body, still underneath him, her tongue sliding over hot flesh as a shiver rolled down his spine. A gasp left his lips as her nails scraped along his straightedge tattoo and suddenly, she was at his belt, tugging it through the loops expertly and sending the piece of studded leather away.

"Bree," he gasped her name softly, turning them over, catching her arms and pulling her up his body. She laid on top of him, their chests heaving as they pressed together. He tugged her even closer, so her face was next to his, the tip of his nose scraping the edge of her ear.

"Slow," to accentuate the word his hand journeyed at a painfully slow place from the plane of her shoulder blade down, fingertips perpendicular to her spine as they followed the gentle curving of her back, finding a shallow dip before an incline, his fingers kneading the flesh of her backside where his hand came to rest.

"We have all night," he whispered hotly in her ear and her eyes fell closed, her tongue suddenly thick.

He rolled them over so she was below him once more. Placing a warm, open-mouthed kiss on her jaw he began to create a path downward.

"I want to spend the whole night," he paused, a kiss on the right side of her neck, "memorizing every inch of you," now, one on the left, "so that I can replay this memory," her collarbone, "every night after you leave," over her heart.

She let out a shuddering breath as he reached below her and she lifted herself up off the bed just a few inches. It was enough space for him to unclasp her bra and give him a new expanse of skin for him to continue his path over.

"I want to take you slowly," the top of her right breast received a sensuous kiss, "over," the peaked tip received similar attention, "and over," carrying out a symmetrical scene on the left breast.

"I love you," he breathed against her stomach, kissing her softly there before bringing his head back up to hers, "for always, for forever."

Clothes fell away, and skin came together, meeting and parting slowly, sensually building toward something that would have an indescribable sweetness at its arrival. Lips were parted and names drawn out into open air.

As they slid downward slowly, they shook in amazement at the intensity of the moment, wrapping arms around each other, kissing softly, gently, watching one another as they recovered and lay together in the dark.

_Lying here with you_

_listening to the rain_

_smiling just to see the smile upon your face_

_these are the moments I thank God that I'm alive_

_these are the moments I'll remember all my life_

_I found all I've waited for_

_and I could not ask for more_

_looking in yours eyes_

_seeing all I need_

_everything you are is everything to me_

_these are the moments_

_I know heaven must exist_

_these are the moments I know all I need is this_

_I have all I've waited for_

_and I could not ask for more_

Breann let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair as she laid back on the pillow. Phil followed her, his arm crossing over her waist, his cheek resting on the front of her shoulder. She grinned slightly to herself as she lifted her hand, laying it lightly on his hand.

"That..." she pressed her lips together before turning her head to look at him, their eyes met and locked. There was silence between them, but against the windowpane there was an early-autumn rain falling.

"You made it through your first last day," Phil murmured softly.

She wrapped her fingers around his hand and squeezed lightly, "I did."

They were silent, just watching each other, waiting as their breathing slowed after several long minutes.

"Thank you, Phil."

He raised his eyebrows, adjusting his cheek on her shoulder, "for what? Rocking your world?" He asked with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes before they both turned serious, "no, for taking care of me the past year. I wouldn't have made it this long without you. Y-you've helped me so much and I can't put how grateful I am into words, I can't even really say what you've done, there's been too much."

He lifted his hand from her stomach and cupped her cheek, lifting his head to kiss her softly.

"You're the perfect man." She whispered.

"Just the perfect man for you," he whispered back.

"You're perfect and I couldn't have asked for more out of life than what you've given me."

"It's starting to sound like a goodbye Bree."

_O they tell me of a home far beyond the sky_

_O they tell me of a land far away_

_O they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise_

_O they tell me of an uncloudy day_

_O the land of the cloudless day_

_O the land of the uncloudy day_

_O they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise_

_O they tell me of an uncloudy day_

"Because that's what this night it, Phil." She murmured back, looking up at the ceiling.

Phil moved away slightly, placing his head on a pillow and Bree opened her mouth to protest, or apologize, when suddenly his arms came around her and pulled her to him.

Obediently, she laid her head over his heart, "you want to know something?" She asked softly.

"Sure," he replied, his fingers stroking through her hair as they both relaxed.

"I've been researching, reading all the different descriptions from different religions about what comes after death." She grinned slightly to herself, "they all kinda start to sound the same after awhile. Its supposed to be better than here, but I don't think it will be, because you won't be there with me for a while."

Phil stared at her, his olive green eyes studying her silently.

"But its okay, because I've decided that no matter where I end up afterward, I'm not going in. I'm going to sit down outside and wait for you. I don't care how long you make me wait, because let's face it, I've made you wait for so many different things. I can wait for you."

"All that waiting was time well spent Bree. A minute more rushed and we might not even be here together. Some other guy might be in my place, taking care of you, loving you."

"No other guy would've been here every step of the way like you have." She met his eyes, "So that's why I wanted to thank you. Anyone else..would've run away."

"No," Phil murmured.

"Yes, they would've left after that second chemo session."

"I mean, no, you don't need to thank me." He cupped her cheek, "thank you for letting me be here. Thank you for offering me that ride during that rainstorm. Thank you for every time that you've smiled at me, and every moment you've spent making me happy." He smiled, eyes watery, "I don't think you'll ever understand how much you've done for _me_. So much more than I've done for you."

"Phil, I don't want to leave you, you know that right?"

He pulled her in, kissing her forehead, kissing her hair, kissing her cheek, "I know," he whispered against her skin, "I know."

"What do you think comes after?" She asked softly, her words mumbled by his shirt.

He kissed her head again, "I don't know, but I hope its fucking beautiful and amazing, you deserve amazing the hell you've been through."

_Here I am waiting, I'll have to leave soon_

_Why am I holding on?_

_We knew this day would come, we knew it all along_

_How did it come so fast?_

_This is our last night but it's late_

_and I'm trying not to sleep_

_cause I know, when I wake up, I will have to slip away_

Phil felt his eyes closing as they laid in silence. The warmth radiating from the woman next to him was soothing and put him at ease.

They'd said a lot to each other, not everything they needed to say, but enough.

It was a night he would never forget, for multiple reasons.

He couldn't understand why, but tonight he felt more exhausted than usual. Strangest of all was that, on that night, he actually felt like he could fall asleep. There was no nagging, persistent insomnia in the corner of his mind telling him he would be deprived of sleep.

He could feel himself already drifting away.

But he fought it, he fought exhaustion because he knew she was going to leave.

She was waiting for him to fall asleep, the minute she knew he was unconscious, she would leave him, she would disappear. Forever.

"I don't want to sleep," he murmured, blinking open his eyes wide, trying to wake himself up.

Bree didn't lift her head from his chest, she didn't make any response actually and for a moment he thought maybe she had fallen asleep and then her heard her whisper.

"It's okay Phil, just sleep."

Her voice was thick with unshed tears.

It was in that moment that he realized how hard this was for her as well.

She didn't want to leave him, but she was convinced it would be better if she left.

He ran a hand down her spine, rubbing soothingly.

"I love you," he whispered, feeling weariness tug at the edges of his consciousness once more.

_and when the daylight come I'll have to go_

_but tonight I'm gonna hold you so close_

_cause in the daylight we'll be on our own_

_but tonight I need to hold you so close_

_Here I am staring at your perfection_

_in my arms, so beautiful_

_the sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out_

_somebody slow it down_

"I love you too," Bree whispered, feeling Phil's arms tighten around her as he rolled then onto their sides. His strong arms encircled her, his head resting in the crook of her shoulder and neck, where he kissed her slowly.

"Bree," he whispered.

"Hmm?" She asked.

"Don't leave yet, stay in my arms for a little while?"

"Okay," she whispered, biting her lip to fight back the tears before turning over in his arms so she could face him.

She watched Phil as his eyes stayed closed and she knew he was asleep after hours of fighting exhaustion. His insomnia was his greater demon that night in its lack of fight for power. It let him fall asleep on the one night he needed it to rear its head and keep him awake.

Bree did as Phil had asked before he slipped off into unconsciousness, she stayed.

Watching him made her heart ache, but she forced herself to, in order to memorize his face.

The sky began to lighten through the curtain and she knew dawn was fast approaching and she needed to get going before he woke up.

She wished she could stay a bit longer, another hour or so but with the sun would come Phil's wakefulness and she knew she couldn't leave with him watching.

_When all our tears have reached the sea_

_part of you will live in me_

_way down deep inside my heart_

_the days keep coming without fail _

_a new wind is gonna find yourself_

_that's where your journey starts_

_you'll find better love_

_strong as it ever was_

_deep as the river runs_

_warm as the morning sun_

_please remember me_

Phil wouldn't be angry or regret the hours of sleep until he woke up in the morning, Bree knew.

She smiled sadly as she brushed her fingers along his scalp. Only a feathery touch because she knew anything more physical would wake him from his precarious sleep.

"You'll find someone Phil, someone who you love more than me. Someone who you won't have to hurt for, someone you won't have to cry for. I want you to love again." She swallowed thickly as the tears rose and slipped silently down her cheeks.

"But I don't want you to forget me, and I don't want it to hurt when you do remember me."

She slid out from under the blankets of their bed before turning and tugging up the sheet and then the duvet, tucking them neatly in along the edges of the pillow and slipping the dangling side of the duvet under the ledge of the mattress.

She dressed slowly in the outfit she had laid out the day before, trying to be quick and silent.

Walking soundlessly over to her purse, she produced a simple envelope with Phil's name written neatly on the smooth side. She placed it on her pillow, chancing a glance at Phil to find him still asleep.

She collected her bags and headed to the door of their bedroom. She stopped, turning back, watching Phil's face in the fading moonlight, ingraining the picture into her mind in case she never saw him again.

"I love you Phil, remember me, but not too much and not too often." Her lip trembled and she swallowed back tears.

"Please, don't stop living because of me," she whispered into the crisp pre-dawn air of Phil's bedroom.

She walked the halls of the empty apartment, checking once more to make sure all that should be packed was in a box.

And then she walked out of his life and out into the pouring rain and the rising sun.

_remember me when you're out walkin'_

_when snow falls high outside your door_

_Late at night when you're not sleepin'_

_and moonlight falls across your floor_

_when I can't hurt you anymore_

_please remember me_

* * *

_**Question: What have your favorite Phil/Bree moments been?**_

_**Review please :) **_


	10. Somewhere Over The Rainbow

_**Holy crackerjacks I can't believe this fic is over!**_

_** Writing this one has been especially great because this fic really inspired me. There has never been a moment where I didn't want to work on this fic. I don't think I've ever focused on such much detail in my writing as I have with this fic, and I really hope that now carries over into my future writing.**_

_**I will be posting new fics since Songs About Rain, as well as my other fic, Seasons Change But People Don't are both ending. So be looking for something new from me. You can help choose what I post next by voting on the poll on my profile page. **_

_**Thank you to my amazing reviewers—all of you, from the first chapter, to this last one. Your words and comments make me smile and inspire me to continue to write. You've all been amazing and I can't thank you enough.**_

_**This final chapter of Songs About Rain focuses mainly on Phil and his evolution as we come to the end of his and Bree's story. So enjoy. **_

_**I'd love to hear your responses to this final chapter of Songs About Rain :) your reviews always make me smile, without fail. **_

_**Onward and upward,**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Angel **_

_**PS- This is just an fyi, I do use CM Punk's sisters in this chapter, mainly Chalene, but, seeing as that I don't have the desire to delve into his personal life I really don't know anything about his sisters. So pretty much, his sisters as characters in this fic are pretty much OCs with the same names as his sisters in real life...I didn't try to base them off their real selves, I fashioned them into what I wanted them to be for their roles in the fic...I hope that makes sense. **_

_**Songs Used In This Chapter (In Order): Looks Like Rain by The Grateful Dead, Cancer by My Chemical Romance, Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope, Who You'd Be Today by Kenny Chesney, I Miss You by Incubus, Rain (Falling Down) by Hanson, Life Ain't Always Beautiful by Gary Allan, Oh Love by Green Day, The Memory by Mayday Parade, I Will by Matchbox Twenty, Flood by Jars of Clay, I Don't Mind If You Don't Mind by Ron Pope, Cryin' For Me by Toby Keith, Rainin' You by Brad Paisley, Goodbye My Friend by Linda Ronstadt and Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole** _

* * *

_**Songs About Rain**_

_**Chapter X: Somewhere Over the Rainbow**_

* * *

**{Shock.}**

_Awoke today, felt your side of the bed;_

_the covers were still warm where you been layin'_

_You were gone, oh gone, my heart was filled with dread;_

_You might not be sleeping here again._

_But it's alright cause I love you, and that's not going to change._

_Run me around and make me hurt again and again._

_But I'll still sing you love songs, written in the letters of your name._

_The rain is gonna come, oh it surely looks like rain._

Phil sat up in bed, but even without looking he knew she was gone.

Her side of the bed had only a vague warmth left to it—he could've been imaging it— the sheets made up nicely, like she'd never been there.

He still couldn't believe she could sneak out of the house without waking him.

His eyes moved around the room and quickly realized that everything that belonged to her was gone. Her hair ties, fuzzy slippers and even her favorite squishy pillow, were all gone.

She was trying to erase herself from his daily life, and she was doing a damn good job of it because it suddenly felt like the other half of his brain was missing and he couldn't think properly.

Slowly, he swung his feet off the side of the bed, letting them brush the carpeted floor but he didn't step down. He felt like if he took that one step, everything would suddenly become real and permanent and he didn't want to face life without her yet. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, picturing her back in a time when she wasn't sick and she wasn't conjuring up this crazy plan to leave him so he wouldn't have to see her die.

She had long brown hair, hanging around her shoulders as she stood in the bathroom, pointing at a spider in their shower.

He smiled to himself, his eyes still closed.

His toes brushed the floor followed by the arch of his foot and finally his heel.

The breath he'd been holding escaped as the image of radiant, lively Bree left him and he opened his eyes to find the room empty.

The room seemed to ache and groan in loss, disgusted by its own emptiness and melancholy dark corners and empty spaces.

His jaw trembled. Sitting on the edge of his bed, palms flat against the covers he sighed.

It felt like she was gone.

_"I know you'll be okay Phil." _

Her words were just a whisper away, her voice not sounding exactly correct in his head. It's tone wasn't as pleasant to his mental ears. It wasn't the same.

Nothing would be the same again, he realized.

_"__I'm going to die Phil, and you're going to keep on living. You're not the type to pity yourself or __give up. You won't do that. You can't."_

Another shaky breath and he nodded to himself.

He could escape the tears and despair for now, with one uplifting, determined thought, but later they would return while he was downed and defenseless. It would be hard.

His eyes lifted to the window, where a dark gray sky painted the background outside of his apartment building.

It looked like it would rain, how befitting of this day.

_'Cause the hardest part of this_

_is leaving you_

_'Cause the hardest part of this_

_is leaving you_

He moved slowly as he got up and gathered clean clothes, noticing that Bree's side of the closet was bare and her drawers in the dresser were empty. With a sigh he stepped into the bathroom. His shower was sluggish, his will to keep moving wearing thin on him.

His reflection frowned back at him in the mirror, his shoulders slumping and that ache in his chest persisted.

Never had he felt like this before.

He stepped back into the bedroom and glanced around, hating the lonely feeling of the room even though there was someone still inside, and there had been a second body in there just hours ago.

He stared at their bed, where they had spent their last night, wrapped up together. Where they'd made love for the last time, where he'd kissed her and told her how much he treasured her, how much he needed her.

Still, she left. To protect him, god he knew that was why but it still didn't seem like a good enough reason.

How could she leave?

Suddenly, his eyes caught on something atop the pillow on Bree's side of the bed.

Walking over woodenly, he stopped beside the bed, reading his own name on the envelope. He lifted it, hooking his thumb under the flap which wasn't glued shut. It unfolded neatly without needing to be torn and he pulled the single sheet of paper from its wrapping.

_Phil,_

_ I love you. Don't think me leaving you means I love you any less. You're still the man I love, the man I will love for the rest of my life._

_ I know there's a lot I haven't said, and I left and you must have a lot of questions. You must be hurt and angry, I'm sure, and I'm sorry you're feeling that way._

_ Just know I love you, and know I'm only doing this because I think it's best for you._

_ I love you._

_ -Bree_

His jaw tightened. That was all she left him. Those simple words, that thoughtless apology that any person could've put together in a few minutes.

He wasn't so much angry as he was shocked that she would leave him so simply with just a few sentences and an informal closing.

Replacing the letter inside the envelope, he tossed it back onto the pillow and left the bedroom.

As he stepped out into a hall, a knock on the front door sounded.

He couldn't help the way his heart sped up.

Maybe she had changed her mind and returned. Maybe she couldn't leave him without saying goodbye face to face. Maybe she realized how insufficient her half-assed letter had been.

She had a key. He'd made her keep it. She wouldn't be knocking on the door.

His stomach sank.

_It's just a drop in the ocean_

_a change in the weather_

_I was praying that you and me might end up together_

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert_

_But I'm holding you closer than most 'cause you are my heaven_

_heaven doesn't seem far away anymore_

_you are my heaven._

The front door was tugged open by a glum Phil and Matt stood on the other side.

"She's not here," Phil groused at his friend.

"I know."

Phil blinked and actually looked at Matt this time.

Matt sighed before giving his friend a look that told him he could explain what the fuck was going on.

"You knew," Phil murmured and Matt nodded slowly, having the decency to look away guiltily.

"You can leave," Phil said, betrayal burning under his skin like a hot iron.

Matt stuck his hand out, shoving something at Phil.

"You didn't think she'd just leave you that crappy excuse of a letter, did you?"

Phil looked down at what was in Matt's hand. A thick, off-white envelope was being offered to him.

Hesitantly, Phil took the envelope.

"This is the real draft she wanted me to give it to you in person. I'll be back later to explain things but I'll give you some time." Matt nodded as he released his grip on the envelope and turned, walking away from the apartment.

Phil shut the door, hand shaking around the envelope as he turned and walked back into his home.

He fell down onto the couch and shakily ripped open the glued edge of the envelope.

Several pieces of paper were folded inside with worn edges and dried wet spots.

This was the type of letter he had expected.

_Dear Phil, _

_ I hope you don't think this was easy for me because leaving you is the hardest thing I'll ever have to do. Worse than chemo, worse than waiting to get into clinical trials, worse than listening to my parents fight because of me. _

_ But we both need this, and I know you weren't going to be the one to do it. So I took the initiative. _

_ Matt will tell you what happened to my things and he'll give you the information for that later because I'm sure you're wondering why half the things in the apartment are missing._

_ The key I gave you for Christmas belongs to a storage unit. Matt will give you the address later as well. You'll have to go find out for yourself what's inside. The payments for the unit are taken directly from my bank account, so you don't have to worry about the storage facility taking ownership of the items inside if you take a while to get there. _

_ Don't worry about having to explain to anyone that I'm gone. I've already talked to most everyone. I called Vince, and as of this morning, my page on the WWE website has officially and permanently been moved to the alumni page. Because even if I do go into remission, there's no way I'll ever return to the ring._

_ There's also no promise that if I do go into remission that I will come back. Dr. Salazar already informed me that even if I did go into remission it would be short-lived. The cancer will just keep coming back, stronger and stronger each time and treatment will work less and less, not that it worked so well in the first place._

_ My body can hardly take it now. That's why I had to leave, I couldn't sit there and let you watch me waste away. I did that with my grandma, I watched her fade and die and it was incredibly hard to sit and watch that and know there's nothing you can do._

_ I'm saving you from that. _

_ Plus, I don't want you to remember me like that. I want you to remember me as strong, stubborn and sarcastic—the woman you fell in love with. Not the sick, bald, depressed woman I became for a good amount of time there. This disease has taken everything from me, but I don't want it to take everything from you as well. At least this way, it won't be able to take away your memory of me._

_ I'd say that if I'm not back within a year, then I'm probably never coming back. _

_ But you never know, the rain always comes back even after years of drought._

Phil choked on the sob in his throat seeing the tear drop on the page that slightly washed away at the ink that formed the word 'back.' She'd cried while writing this. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his erratic breathing.

_ Anyway, to you I leave my everything. My clothes, my CD collection, even my copies of _Huck Finn_ and _The Call of the Wild. _But most importantly, I leave you my heart. _

_ You have no idea how much easier you've made this journey for me. When you look at me, smile in my direction, I feel alive again and I can forget for a moment that I'm dying. I can never say "thank you" and "I love you" enough, but I'll say them again and hopefully this time they'll count for something more._

_ Thank you. For staying with me during this past year. For loving me unconditionally even when we've disagreed. Thank you for staying positive and having hope when I didn't have any. For sitting with me during chemo even when I told you to go away. Thank you for the letters. For the ring which I'll never get to wear properly. Thank you for your love, your smile, your lip ring and your tattoos. Thank you for your sarcastic humor and slightly offensive comments. Thank you for putting up with the rain for me when I know you hate it. Thank you for finding me when I've been lost, when I've been depressed, when I've been completely ridiculous. Thank you for giving me a life I can be happy about._

_ I love you. I love all of you, forever, as long as that will be. I love your hair, long or short. Each one of your tattoos even if I don't like some of them. I love the way you hold my hand, and how in he morning when you wake up, you kiss my shoulder. I love how you're patient with me, how you forgive me, how you compromise with me. I love you for trying so hard, I love you for letting me get away with what I have. I love you for days and years and for moments that we'll never really get to have. I love you for holding me when I've been falling apart, sick and dying. I love you for opening up to me and allowing me to hold you when you've been falling apart. I love you for loving me. I love you for being the man of my dream and all I could ever ask for. _

_ I refuse to call this goodbye, because it might not be. Maybe I'll see you again. Maybe I'll write you a letter, send you a postcard. Who knows? _

_ I love you, and I know its stupid to ask, but can you please remember me? _

_ At least when it rains. Remember me when it rains. _

_ Love for always, in sun and rain,_

_ Bree (Brooks)_

He leaned over his knees, one hand sliding over his face, the other still clutching the paper tightly as the tears fell freely, unashamed.

"Goddammit, Bree," he choked out the words between sobs, the paper giving way to his fist as a freezing emptiness opened up in his chest where once Bree's presence had settled and held him together.

/

"It's open," he croaked.

The door opened with a slow wooden drag, followed by another as it fell back before closing with a click.

Matt walked into the living room slowly, sitting down next to Phil, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Phil rubbed at his eye with the heel of his left hand, his right hand still clenched around the letter.

"Ah, so," Phil sniffed, "you're supposed to explain some things to me."

Matt just nodded, not trying to force Phil into talking about feelings and not anywhere near comfortable watching his close friend—strong, sarcastic and cool Phil—cry in front of him.

"Yeah, um," Matt reached into his back pocket and produced a key, taped to a small index card. "This key is for the storage unit with all of Bree's things in it. She knew she couldn't take her things with her, she only took what she would need, but she didn't want to leave everything around the apartment. She felt it'd be easier if her things were gone. But, they're there, in storage. The address is on the card." Matt took a breath, "and you have the key to the other storage unit, 515," Matt flipped over the index card to the other side, where another address is written, "it's there."

Phil's fingers dipped into the neckline of his t-shirt, finding the key which dangled from the thin chain, "what's there?" He asked.

Matt stared at his friend, "she didn't tell me. Said it was for you to see."

"Did she leave anything for you guys?" Phil asked, referring to Matt and Bree's other friends, his co-workers.

"Yeah, yeah she did. She made everyone a memory book." Matt felt the tears prick his eyes and he was suddenly glad for his sunglasses.

Phil stared down at the key, index card, and letter in his hand. It was all he really had left of her.

"I can't believe she's really gone."

And then came the tears again.

* * *

**{Denial.}**

_Sunny days seem to hurt the most_

_wear the pain like a heavy coat_

_I feel you everywhere I go_

_I see your smile, I see your face_

_I hear you laughing in the rain_

_Still can't believe you're gone_

Some mornings, if he woke up and didn't move, didn't open his eyes, it still felt like Breann was there with him.

He could pretend that she was just a couple inches away from his finger tips. Just not in his arms, that's why he couldn't feel her warmth, she'd rolled away from him slightly in her sleep, that was all.

Then he'd open his eyes and be greeted by the truth, the sickening silence of the room, hearing only his own rasping breath. Solitary and lonely he would lay there for several more minutes before he worked up the courage to get out of bed and face another day without her.

Ten days without her and he still didn't know what to do with himself. He was keeping track of the days in his head.

He'd flown out for the taping a couple nights ago, done the press and appearances he had to, and then returned home. The only person he had spoken to was Matt, because he was the only person he wanted to talk to.

The dark circles were testaments to his fitful nights that he spent alone in a bed that was too big for a man alone. And although his nights were fitful and he tossed and turned, he never once rolled over onto Bree's side of the bed. It was as if there was a wall dividing the two sides and he couldn't break past it.

He didn't want to, it was her side of the bed and it would remain so until she returned.

/

"I think she'll come back," Phil said as he stretched and prepared for his match.

Matt lifted his eyebrows behind his sunglasses, "you do?"

"Yeah."

And that was all that was spoken between the two.

Matt shook his head to himself. Bree wasn't coming back. He had talked to her the morning she left, she was committed to her plan. He didn't see her returning anytime soon. Her decision had been firm, her resolve stony. She wouldn't come back if she felt she was just going to die in a couple of weeks anyways. That would defeat the purpose of her leaving.

However, he decided that if that's what Phil wanted to believe, if that's what kept his friend sane, he would let him keep believing that, no matter how wrong or invalid it was.

/

Missouri was different without Bree, something about the atmosphere was off as Phil stepped out of the taxi in front of the home of Bree's parents.

Ben answered the door, looking solemn but not falling apart like Phil expected.

His dark circles were reflected on the face of the man before him.

"She's gone."

"I know, she came to see us," Ben said with a nod. He'd expected Phil to show up soon.

"She did?" Phil's brows furrowed, "when?"

"A day or two before she left."

Phil nodded and then there was a silence, "may I come in?" He asked, glancing up at Ben.

"Of course," the older man stepped aside to allow Phil entrance.

As they walked into the living room Ben looked up at Phil, "even if Bree is gone, I want you to know that I still consider you like a son."

"She's not gone." Phil argued meekly and Ben just conceded with a nod, letting it go. If he had the strength to, he would've denied Bree's disappearance as well.

But he had had a long discussion with his daughter where she had confided in him that she felt the disease stealing her minutes from her. Ben understood her reasons for wanting to leave and, strangely enough, he agreed with her actions.

"Uncle Punk!" Ethan was suddenly running at Phil, throwing his arms around his uncle's legs.

"Hey buddy," Phil said, leaning over to pull the boy up into his arms. "How are you little man?"

Ethan's eyes were the same blue-gray as Bree's Phil realized as he stared into the childish face of the boy.

"Where's Aunty Bree?" Ethan asked.

Phil glanced up, his eyes finding Lee in the room for the first time. Lee's face held worry and reproach, like he was sorry his son had asked that.

"Well," Phil began as he sat down, placing Ethan on his knee. "Aunty Bree is on an adventure somewhere far far away."

The little boy's eyes widened in awe.

"But you don't have to worry even though it's going to be dangerous because your Aunty Bree is a strong girl, right?"

"Yeah, super strong!" Ethan cheered. "When is she coming home?"

"We don't know for sure. But I do know you'll see her again some day."

_I miss you._

_I see your picture, I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine_

_you have only been gone ten days, but already I am wasting away_

_I know I'll see you again_

_Whether far or soon_

_But I need you to know that I care_

_and I miss you._

"Come on Bree, pick up the damn phone," Phil muttered to himself as he held his cell to his ear as the droning ring continued through the line. He massaged his temple with his free hand, trying to coax the headache to leave him, he didn't think he could handle the loneliness in his chest as well as a migraine.

_"Hey, it's Bree. Sorry that I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." _

"It's me again," his voice choked up, "I just wanted to see if you'd answers seeing as it's the 33rd time I've called. Guess it's not the charm." He sighed, "I miss you Bree, please call me back."

He continued to call until he received the automated voice telling him that Bree's voicemail was full and that he should try calling again.

He tossed his phone onto the coffee table, not caring that it landed with a crack and then slid across the table and off the other side to the floor.

Leaning his head back against the couch he sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

All he wanted was to say a proper goodbye, say 'I love you' to her one last time when she was really listening.

As his eyes roamed the uni-color ceiling that had virtually no variation his eyes spotted something in the corner of the room. He turned his head slightly to get a better look.

There in the corner of the room was a spider web, a densely packed, intricately spun one.

Slightly off-centered on the web was a round black-brown speck that Phil knew had to be the spider that called the web its home.

The spider brought back a memory of Bree suddenly, so suddenly that his body jarred and his heart lurched.

_The sight before him caused a smirk to twist his lips._

_ She must've been about to step into the shower before she called him for whatever reason, because she was standing in her under, holding her unclasped bra to her chest as she stared into the shower, her back to him._

_ "What's the problem?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed._

_ She turned to face him, "there's a spider in the shower."_

_ His smirk widened, "and what do you want me to do about that?"_

_ "I dunno, get rid of it, something! It can't stay in there."_

_ "Just ignore it."_

_ "I can't ignore it! It's huge!"_

Phil banished the memory quickly, sending a glare at the offending spider for bringing up such a happy memory of himself and Breann.

He pointed a finger at the oblivious spider, "I will kill you one day. When you least expect it."

* * *

_**{Anger.}**_

_**-Autumn-**_

_As I think back when you were around_

_And we were together, we didn't care about the weather_

_'cause baby we were together_

The minute he stepped inside the arena he was aware that everyone else knew Bree had left.

He hated being treated like a glass doll, but his complaints about it were half-hearted because he honestly felt that he would fall apart with just the slightest amount of pressure applied.

Struggling to hold the pieces of his life together, Phil went back to work.

Matt seemed to always be with him and when he couldn't be, John was there, or Mike. They took shifts it seemed and Phil was beginning to suspect that Bree had asked the three friends to babysit him for a while after she left, to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

She told him he wouldn't, told him he couldn't, so he won't.

As Phil walked down the hall, flanked by Mike and John who were having some conversation that was ridiculous and Phil guessed, probably humorous but he didn't feel like laughing much anymore.

Suddenly he turned on the two men, "you two know you don't have to fucking follow me around everywhere. I'm not going to fucking hang myself from the scaffolding the minute you're gone."

He hadn't meant the words to be so harsh or blunt, but they'd come out that way, and he wasn't the type to take words back.

Mike wasn't sure what to say as he stopped walking when Phil rounded on them. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced up at John, hoping the other man would know what to do in this situation.

John shook his head, rolling his blue eyes, "we don't think you're going to kill yourself man. We're just trying to keep you _living_, like Bree would want."

"I know Bree wants me to keep living. I get it. It's just fucking hard when I'm used to living with her, not without her." Phil ran a hand over his head, "I don't need you guys babysitting me."

"We're not babysitting you, we're trying to be there for you." Mike replied and John nodded.

Phil opened his mouth to protest but Mike continued.

"And I know you don't think you need us, but I think you do. Look, we don't expect you to bawl your eyes out and have a heart-to-heart, but we'd like to keep you from going off the deep end."

Phil stared at Mike for a minute before switching his gaze to John who just stared back grimly.

"We miss her too, Phil," John said softly.

Phil felt his throat tighten as he nodded before whipping around and continuing the path he had stopped them in.

_But now that you're gone, I have to say,_

_the rain is falling down each and every day,_

_outta my eyes and I'm wondering why_

A couple weeks had passed since Phil returned to the road and he wasn't taking to being around so many people well.

Face, conversations, jokes—they all brought up memories of Bree, they were all people who were friends with Bree, they all knew Bree was gone.

So he began to pull back, began to seclude himself away from his other coworkers, only letting in a select few.

Matt sighed as he realized he and Phil were the only two left in the locker room.

He set his shirt down on his bag, "have you looked at the storage unit yet?" Matt asked.

"Which one?"

"Either," Matt shrugged.

"No. I-I can't go look at her things, it'll hurt too much to see all of my life with Bree packed away into a fucking storage unit."

"Why haven't you gone to the other one?"

Phil paused, staring down at his hands, "I'm afraid of what's in there."

"It's nothing to be scared of."

"How would you know? You said she didn't tell you what's in there?"

"She didn't, but I know Bree. She didn't put anything in there that you should be scared of."

"Well if it isn't two of my best bros," John said loudly with a beaming grin as we swung the door to the locker room open. "Hope everyone's decent."

Punk rolled his eyes and that sign of life alone caused Matt to grin.

"A knock would be nice, common courtesy and all that bullshit, y'know," Phil shrugged, smirking slightly to himself.

John paused for a moment as Phil turned his back on the man. John looked over at Matt who just shrugged.

"So, we're going out tonight and we need a designated driver," John said, nudging Phil's arm with his elbow.

"Uh, no," Phil replied.

"Aw c'mon man, you haven't driven our drunk asses home in a while. You're due for a night out with us."

"No."

John continued to pester and nag Phil for several more minutes until a stage hand came to retrieve John for his segment.

"You know, he's not going to leave you alone until you say yes," Matt said.

"I know." Phil replied moments before John walked back into the locker room.

As the blue-eyed man opened his mouth to continue badgering Phil, the Chicago-native spoke, "fine, I'll go. Just shut up."

"Sweet," John said, tapping his knuckles against Matt's.

_well, it's cold outside and it's not summer anymore_

_and so I have to go inside and shut the door._

_Perhaps if you were here, the weather wouldn't seem as bad,_

_but since you've been gone,_

_I've been so very sad._

The guys were excited that Phil was going out with them. He seemed back to his normal self that day. He was being sarcastic and making snide comments, he was the regular Phil again.

It all changed when the group of guys stepped outside the arena and into the pouring rain.

As most of the guys just keep walking toward their cars, Phil stopped in the middle of the sprinkling rain that continuously came down harder.

Matt turned around when he realized Phil was no longer walked beside him, "Phil, c'mon bro," he called but Phil just stared up at the sky.

Matt shared a look with John, mouthing for him to go on ahead, before he doubled back to Phil.

He placed a hand on Phil's shoulder and that seemed to shock the Chicago-native out of his thoughts as he blinked and looked at Matt.

"You okay?" Matt asked.

The atmosphere of sadness had returned to Phil and Matt noticed it immediately, feeling the pull of melancholy's gravity.

"I can't, I can't go." Phil whispered and there was a tightness in his throat.

Matt pressed his lips together and nodded slowly, "I'll explain things to the guys."

Phil nodded, muttering out a "thanks" before heading for his rental and going back to the hotel where he would sit alone and let the memories of Bree in the rain consume him, suffering under the sharp pain of remembering she was gone and never coming back.

_Life ain't always beautiful_

_some days I miss your smile_

_I get tired of walkin' all these lonely miles_

He didn't know why, or how, it happened. He tried to think of the words exchanged and the movements that occurred afterward but it all seemed to blur together in his mind.

Had it been about John missing a spot in the ring and causing Phil to take a hard bump on RAW?

Had it been about how he'd been careless in the ring and got Matt's knee fucked up in the process?

Had it been John's comment about how Phil need to knock the depression shit off and get his head out of his ass?

He couldn't remember, all he knew was that he had ended up punching John in the face, giving the leader of the Cenation one hell of a shiner and also earning himself two weeks at home with no pay.

At least he'd get to spend his birthday at home.

Without Bree.

God, he missed her.

He hated the world for making her sick, for choosing Bree of all people to give cancer to.

She deserved to be happy and healthy, but instead whoever fucking controls the world decided to deliver her to an early grave and steal away his happiness as well.

He hated the world sometimes.

And so, he spent the majority of those two weeks at home hating the world, missing Bree, and planning the death of the spider that inhabited the cobweb in the corner of the living room.

_And I wish for just one minute_

_I could see your pretty face_

_guess I can dream, but life don't work that way_

Phil's eyes scanned he playground forlornly, watching the children run about, everyone once in a while glancing around to locate their parent. Upon finding their mom or dad they smiled and went back to playing, happy and safe, loved.

"Which one is yours?" A woman asked as she sat down next to him on the empty half of his bench.

He glanced over at her. Of all days, it was one day where he really didn't want company.

"None of them, I don't have any kids." He replied.

The woman gave him a look.

He decided he didn't want her to think he was a pedophile and calls the cops so he elaborated, "I'm just watching what I'll never have," he said bitterly.

She must have seen the genuine pain and honesty in his eyes because her gaze softened. "What do you mean by that?"

He wasn't sure why, but he found himself telling her all about Breann, about the situation, about how he couldn't see himself fathering the child of anyone else but Breann's.

The nameless woman sat in awe, listening to the way this man spoke, wondering how one man could love one woman so much.

It was something truly inspiring.

It was something that made you believe in true love again.

"You'd be a great father. If only people loved their spouses and children half as much as you love Breann." The woman said, a certain wistfulness to her voice.

She was suddenly reminded of a friend of hers, who'd undergone chemo and had a situation that vaguely resembled Phil and Breann's.

"Did Breann freeze any of her eggs?"

"H-her what?"

"You know, her eggs, where babies come from?"

He knew what she meant, he just hadn't realized she could've possibly done that. "I-I don't know if she did."

"Well, it's kind of crazy, but if she did, you could still become a father," she shrugged, "it's an idea, if you really want the child."

"Hey, bro, what are you doing here?" Chalene yelled as she leaned out of her car door.

Phil turned this head to see his sister motioning him over.

He glanced at the woman beside him, "thanks for listening."

She just nodded and smiled to herself as he walked away, "no, thank you," she whispered to herself.

Phil hugged his sister in greeting. "What're _you_ doing here?" He asked, reversing her question.

"Heard from a reliable source that you got sent home for a couple weeks," she said, "plus, it's your birthday. You can't spend it alone," she said with an adamant shake of her head before ordering him to "hop in."

They headed back to his apartment and as Chalene stepped out of the room to order take out, Phil picked up his phone. He scrolled through his contact twice before realizing he didn't have Doctor Salazar's number.

He threw his phone onto the couch beside him and leaned back with a sigh. He'd have to go look up her number and he didn't have the time to go do that at the moment, not with his sister around.

Suddenly, he remembered sliding Dr. Salazar's card into his wallet months ago.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his wallet and searched through the various cards inside.

He let out a relieved wheeze of breath as he found Dr. Salazar's card. He paused for a moment, hearing his sister in the middle of ordering their food, before dialing the doctor's number.

"Hello? Dr. Salazar's office, how may I help you?"

"Can I talk to Dr. Salazar?"

"And who is this?" The female voice asked.

"Phil Brooks."

"One moment please."

Phil spun his lip ring as he waited, getting anxious as the seconds ticked by.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Salazar?"

"Yes, Mr. Brooks, what was it you needed? I thought Bree has left already?"

"She did, she did. I just," he paused for a moment, sucking in a breath, "I was wondering if she froze any of her eggs."

"Give me a moment," the doctor said and he heard papers being shuffled and a drawer being opened.

"In her file it says she did before she started chemotherapy." Dr. Salazar finally answered.

Chalene walked into the room.

"Okay, thank you," Phil hung up quickly.

"Who was that?" Chalene asked, arching a brow.

"Just Matt," he lied with a shrug as he processed what he had just learned.

* * *

**{Bargaining.}**

_**-Winter-**_

_Oh love, won't you rain on me tonight?_

_Oh life, oh life, please don't pass me by_

_Don't stop, don't stop _

_when the red lights flash_

_oh ride, free ride_

_won't you take me close to you?_

Bree's birthday was hard for him.

He spent most of the day sitting alone in his apartment, watching the rain dot his window as he imagined where she could be.

On a beach somewhere? Probably not, the ocean wasn't really a favorite of hers.

On the top of a mountain? No, heights mildly frightened her.

In a jungle? Humidity, not really her thing either.

Honestly, he had no idea where she could be. She could be anywhere and that thought scared and saddened him.

Saddened him because she could be anywhere and anywhere wasn't there with him.

"If there's anyone up there, could you please bring her back to me?"

He wasn't sure who he was talking to, or why, but it just felt like the only thing he could do.

"I'd rather have her be here than some strange place alone and dying. I'll do anything, just give me some sort of fucking sign." He rested his forehead against his knee as he pulled his legs to his chest. He shook his head, feeling stupid and helpless and utterly alone. Bargaining with the air, how low had he fallen?

"God Bree, why'd you leave me? Didn't you know this was going to crush me?"

_Far away, far away,_

_waste away tonight,_

_I'm wearing my heart on a noose_

The first snow of the year was worse.

His sisters were there with him, and they tried to be understanding but it had been three months already, they thought he'd be a little better by then.

Chalene sat down next to Phil on a bench, rubbing her mittened hands together after she thrust a cup of hot chocolate into his hands.

"Drink, it's freezing."

He did as ordered and they sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"I don't think this is what Bree wanted for you," Chalene murmured, glancing over at her brother.

"I don't know what she expected me to do. She just left, she couldn't think I'd be happy that I don't get to be with her when she dies."

Chalene winced and then shrugged, "she's did what she thought was best. You'd do the same for her Phil, you wouldn't make her watch you die. You know how much it would hurt her if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't put her through it either."

"Doesn't mean I wanted her to leave."

"No one _wanted_ her to leave. It was just what she had to do."

"Did she talk to you? Before she left?" He asked. He hadn't asked Chalene much about Bree's leaving, hadn't talked to her much about it either. Chalene had a way of being sensible with him over these sort of things and he honestly didn't feel up to wading through her logic. He didn't want to hear it he was content with his melancholy ways.

"She did."

He was a little shocked. Chalene was the last person he'd expected Bree to go to.

"What about?"

"About watching after you, making sure you didn't give up and get depressed."

"Depressed, not quite the right word for how I feel. Not remotely intense enough."

Chalene whipped her head to the side to look at him, "grow up Phil. For one fucking minute look at this through the eyes of someone else instead of your own. Look at it through her eyes. She was told she's dying, that she's going to die. You cried and you fought with her and you told her how you couldn't move on from things without her, told her all the important things in your life wouldn't be the same if she died. Can you imagine how it made her feel?"

She stared at her brother as a blank expression fell over his face.

"She felt like she was _killing_ you and she had no control over it. She felt like it was her fault. She couldn't stop herself from dying, she tried, she did the clinical trial. She went through terrible pain and sickness just to stop from killing you, and finally she decided it wasn't worth it."

Phil glanced up suddenly at her words.

"She decided that instead of trying to fix herself, she'd try to fix you. No matter how much it hurt her, she was going to try and save you. Selfless, completely selfless and you sit around and mope and you're being completely selfish. It's disgusting and disrespectful to Bree."

With that Chalene stood and left her brother sitting there, letting her words sink it and leave their hot branding mark on his heart.

_Far away, far away_

_waste away tonight_

_tonight, my heart's on the loose. _

Christmas was by far the worst.

With Chalene's words in his head, an apartment completely barren of any holiday cheer and no one around to spend the day with he felt lost.

He cried for the first time since Chalene had lectured him on why Bree left.

It was selfish.

The outward release of sorrow was his Christmas gift to himself.

"Phil, man, open the goddamn door," Matt groaned as he pounded his fist into the front door of Phil's apartment.

When the door finally opened Phil stood there, looking worse for wear.

"Your sister called me."

"So you flew out to Chicago?" Phil asked, eyebrows furrowing as he turned and walked back into his apartment. He was grumpy, he intended to spend the day wallowing in self-pity and despair.

"No, I had already planned to come. She didn't know, so she called me when you called her to tell her you weren't showing up for Christmas with the family."

"Why did you come?"

"Because I knew you'd do this to yourself," he replied, motioning to Phil as he stood in sweats with dark circles and greasy hair. "I'm not going to force you to go spend the day with your family if you don't want to, but I am going to force you to spend time with someone, so you don't do something stupid." He paused and nodded. "Have you even eaten?" He asked as he set down the plastic bags he'd been carrying.

"No, but it looks like you've already figured that out." Phil replied, nodding to the bags.

"Bacon or sausage?" Matt asked.

"Both."

As they sat together after there meal they talked. Bree, of course, came up and Phil willed himself to keep the tears at bay.

Talking with Matt about Bree was okay, he decided, because Matt didn't push, he didn't yell, he didn't call him stupid or selfish. Instead, he tried to be understanding, tried to console him but still kept a distance out of respect.

"Do you know if Bree ever read the letters we gave her?" Phil asked quietly, playing around with his last piece of egg, sliding it around his plate.

"She loved them." Matt answered with a nod and a sad smile.

"I pretty much ended up telling her in person everything I wrote in my letter when I proposed...and she still shot me down.

"Yeah well, I could've told you that would've happened. But, anyways, she still loved the letter. Told me so, before she left."

As Phil escorted Matt the the front door later that night, Matt saying he needed to return home to his own family for their own Christmas, Matt brought up New Years Eve.

"I know you don't really want to go, but I don't give a damn and I'm forcing you to go to John's big party. So, find your favorite party dress and iron it out because you're gonna be wearing it soon."

Phil just shook his head as he closed the door behind his friend and found himself thanking the man silently for showing up.

The day would have been hard to make it through if he had been alone.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Bree had spent the day alone.

_She is everywhere I go_

_Everyone I see_

_Winter's gone and I still can't sleep_

_Summer's on the way_

_At least that's what they say_

_But these clouds won't leave_

_Walk away_

_barely breathing_

_as I'm lying on the floor_

_Take my heart _

_as you're leaving_

_I don't need it anymore_

It was a freezing winter night where he woke up in a cold sweat after a nightmare.

Bree's side of the bed lay undisturbed and he rolled onto his side, stretching his hand out to caress the sheets that she had once slept upon.

The tears fell down his cheeks as January slid into February in a cold, soundless night.

She was still gone, he'd still received no word, her voicemail was still full.

It was raining outside and fuck, he was sick of the rain.

It always reminded him of Bree and the pain was beginning to be unbearable now.

For so long he'd tried to push it away, focus on anger or being upset or sad.

Now it wasn't even sorrow, it was loneliness and pain and it was terrible.

He took in a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut, choking back a sob.

Sitting up suddenly he yelled, just yelled to release the pain he felt inside of himself, the disarray in his mind bothering him to no end. He knew he would not fall back asleep.

"I'll give anything in this world to have her back," another tear escaped from the corner of his eye and he didn't even attempt to wipe it away.

"I'll, I'll give up Pepsi, convert to Catholicism, take a fucking drink of whiskey, anything just to have her home again. I'll take on fucking cancer myself, make me sick instead, just bring her home, make her healthy and bring her back to me."

He dissolved into mumbles and sobs and then suddenly would yell out. Pleading with the air, with an unseen person who didn't want to listen, who wouldn't give him anything in return.

He knew it was pointless, knew a lot of things in the past year had been pointless.

Pointless was what his life was without Bree.

Emptiness was what he felt now that she was gone.

Helpless was the emotion he had gotten used to in the last sixteen months.

Two months and her expiration date would be upon then and he wondered if she was gone already.

2014 wasn't starting off well for Phil.

* * *

**{Guilt.}**

_Tonight, looking back on all this life_

_it's funny how the time goes by_

_and how sometimes it slides away_

He didn't talk to John for two months after the fight and finally, the guilt cracked him.

"I'm sorry for socking you in the face. It was uncalled for," Phil said as he stood in front of John, they were the only two in the locker room after Phil told Matt and Mike to get lost.

John straightened and turned to his friend, "I'm not even angry about you punching me. I'm angry that you were careless enough in the ring to let Matt get hurt. You know, it's fine to take your anger out on yourself, but you don't need to let it carry over onto your friends. Matt's the guy who's been there for you through everything, not because Bree asked him to, but because he's your friend and he cares. He gives a shit that you keep on living, that you don't spend Christmas alone, and all kinds of other little things that he doesn't, and shouldn't, have to care or worry about. But he does, dammit, so you need to get your head on straight and don't let anything like that happen ever again."

Phil just nodded woodenly, whole-heartedly agreeing with John's words.

He hated himself for letting Matt get hurt. Matt had been there for him through it all. He didn't deserve Phil's carelessness and anger.

"I appreciate the apology, and I forgive you," John said, locking his eyes with Phil. "And I know Matt was never even mad."

"I know."

"Seems like you attract a lot of self-less people to you, when half the time, you don't deserve them."

"I know." Phil whispered, his head down.

"Don't be angry forever," John said, placing a hand on Phil's shoulder, "and don't let people's generosity go to waste."

With that, John left Phil alone in the locker room to think over his words.

_time, sliding through the dead of night_

_shaking 'til you start to cry _

_your eyes won't dry 'til light of day_

Valentine's Day, Phil found himself alone.

A new Diva on the roster had been showing an interest, but to everyone else it was obvious Phil didn't return the attraction.

Sure, the girl was beautiful and Phil could hold somewhat of a conversation wit her, but he wasn't ready to move on, not sure he ever would be. Thinking of another woman felt like cheating on Bree, and cheating on Bree made him feel guilty because she could still be alive out there and he didn't think that her leaving should be taken as a break up. They were too intertwined for that.

Plus, this girl's humor wasn't as sharp as Bree's.

She wasn't Bree, therefore, he could never love her.

He rolled over in bed, knowing he would be unable to sleep. He felt the insomnia rising in his mind and sighed heavily.

Just thinking of being with another woman caused his heart to throb with guilt.

He was Bree's, forever and always, in sun and rain.

Nothing would change that.

They could be apart for months, she could leave him on this earth utterly alone, break his heart in a million different ways and he would still be hers.

Guilt was something Phil was becoming well acquainted with.

It was the "maybes" and the "what-ifs" and the realization that he was the reason none of them actually happened.

It was his fault. If he had been stronger, not let her see him so affected by what is happening, she would've stayed. If she had believed he was strong enough to be with her when she died, she would've stayed.

He was too weak, and so she left, to spare him from more pain, because he couldn't handle it.

It was all his fault she was gone.

The tears came easily to him in the dark, in a bed empty besides himself.

The open weakness angered him.

It was his tears' fault that she was gone.

If he hadn't broken down so many times in her arms she would've stayed, she would've stayed.

His mind pushed away the fact that even if he hadn't cried, she still would've left.

_and sleep away _

_don't let it go, don't let it fade_

_your dreams may cave _

_falling apart is the only way _

_we go so low _

_when you don't know, I will_

_And if you go, take a little piece of me_

_hand it by the place you sleep_

_and dream of me_

_don't leave_

Lee opened the door and blinked in surprise upon seeing Phil standing there with a hoodie zipped up and hood pulled tight around his face.

"I realized that I'm the reason Bree left and it's because of me that you and Ethan won't get to see her again."

Lee had never wanted to punch someone so much in his life like he wanted to sock Phil in the face that moment.

"Get inside you idiot." He growled, stepping aside.

Lee rarely got angry, but Phil was being fucking ridiculous.

He guided Phil into a seat with a rough downward push on the man's shoulder.

Phil watched Lee, trying to hide his wide eyes as Lee paced the living room.

"You're really going to do something as selfish as blame yourself for Bree leaving?" He turned to face Phil, "you're going to make this about _you?_"

Phil didn't know what to say, so he remained silent.

"Sure, Bree made everything in her life about you, because she loves you, but I'm not my sister and I'm not going to allow you to take her sacrifice and make it your own fucking issue. This wasn't your choice that you made, you didn't make her go, you didn't tell her to. She did this all on her own, it was her own decision, it was her own plan, it was what she wanted. You didn't cause this, you didn't force her hand or anything like that.  
"She wanted to leave, she felt it was best—for everyone, including you—and right now you're proving her wrong by being a self-absorbed, pitiful ass." Lee finished, biting the inside of his cheek as his chest heaved.

He sat down heavily across from Phil, his anger suddenly gone and replaced with a sadness Phil knew well.

"She was my protector when we were kids," Lee murmured, looking down at his hands. "And she's protecting me now. I know she'll continue protecting me for the rest of my life. She's just trying to protect you Phil, and I really wish you'd just let her."

* * *

**{Depression.}**

_**-Spring-**_

_rain, rain on my face_

_it hasn't stopped raining for days_

_my world is a flood_

_slowly I become one with the mud_

"It's been six months Matt, I can't believe it took this long for me to realize I should be looking for her."

Matt stared at Phil, having no words at the moment for the man's sudden outburst.

"Six months, it's March now, Matt. That means she could be dying any day, if she isn't dead already."

"We'd know if she had passed," Matt interjected.

"Oh, we would, is there a protocol for that then?" Phil asked.

"Actually, yes."

"Fuck, Matt. I don't care about the protocol, I just want to see her again before she leaves for good."

"Phil."

"Don't Phil me, Matt. I need to see her again. I need to hear her voice for real, not on her voicemail."

"I promised her I wouldn't go looking for her."

"You aren't going looking for her, I am. So tell me what you know."

Phil's olive eyes were wide, his hair mussed from where his hands had run through it, his breathing was slightly accelerated. Matt took his friend in, placing his hands on his hips, looking down before sighing. "She called the place her 'Safe Haven' but that's all I know. She didn't tell me a city or a state, or give me an address."

Phil placed a hand on Matt's shoulder, seeing the indecision still etched into his friend's features.

"I won't tell her you told me."

"I'm not afraid of her finding out Phil. I'm afraid of what you'll find if you do go looking."

He chose to ignore the words and somehow made it through the show before going back to his hotel room and opening up his laptop. He Googled Safe Haven and found several very vague website options. He knew he would have to be more specific if he was going to find anything.

He added 'cancer' to the search and still came up with too many results to even begin to find the right one.

Hours flew by him as he stayed up into the night, his insomnia aiding him this once.

Finally, he found something that sounded hopeful.

Safe Haven Cancer Patient Care Home. For cancer patients who are terminally ill and close to passing.

Despite the center's blunt mission statement, it looked like the logical place for Bree to go.

Quickly he picked up his cell phone, not caring about the time difference, or the time of day it even was. He dialed the number.

"Hello?" A woman's voice answered.

"Hi, I was wondering if you had a patient named Breann Thompson?"

"I'm sorry sir, but we have confidentiality agreements with our patients. They come here for a peaceful, anonymous passing, most often to get away from family and such. I'm afraid I can't deny nor affirm that such a patient exists."

He huffed out a breath, muttering a "well fuck you" under his breath before he hastily thanked her anyways and hung up.

The place was in California, in a town he'd never heard of.

His next phone call was to WWE Headquarters to set up a meeting with Vince McMahon.

/

Vince let out a breath, lacing his fingers atop his desk as he looked at the younger man sitting across from him. He'd had an idea of why their meeting had been scheduled. He figured it had something to do with Bree when his secretary told him Phil Brooks had called at an extremely late, or early depending on how you look at it, hour and demanded a meeting with the Chairman of the Board.

He had been mostly correct in his assumptions. Phil wanted time off to search for Breann.

Honestly, Vince was surprised the man had waited the six months before bringing it up.

"Phil, you've already agreed to resign your contract with the company when the time comes, and with that agreement comes the push for the title in the upcoming months. If you decide to take this time off, I'm afraid I'll have to retract the title push and give it to someone else, someone who will be here."

There was a long silence and during this pause, Vince stood from his desk and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. He stared out at the city below, "when I talked to Breann before she left, she told me you would bring up something like this. She told me to be firm with you about it." He smiled slightly at the memory of the woman, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Phil before returning his gaze to the cityscape. "She told me to tell you two things. The first, she loves you. And secondly, to not stop living because she's gone."

The words seemed to strike a chord with Phil, the younger man's mouth fell open slightly, his eyes tightened. Phil looked down at his hands handing between his knees, his shoulders slumping as his decision was made.

"She didn't do this to hurt you Phil, she did this to heal you," Vince said, turning to face the man. "But if you really want to take this time off, I can't stop you."

"I can't take the time off. I can't do it."

And he couldn't, because she didn't want him to.

_but if I can't swim after 40 days _

_and my mind is crashed by the thrashing waves_

_lift me up so high that I cannot fall_

_lift me up_

_lift me up—when I am falling_

_lift me up- I'm weak and I'm dying_

_lift me up—I need you to hold me_

_lift me up—keep me from drowning again_

May 15, 2014.

Phil felt dead inside.

Four years together and he spent their anniversary alone.

It was raining outside, as well as inside as Phil sat with a photo album.

He'd caved and gone to the storage unit where she had boxed away her belongings.

He'd needed something of hers to get him through the day.

On May 15, 2014, he didn't push away the memories of her that caused a pang in his heart. Instead he accepted and welcomed them, he took in the pain and let it wash over him as he fully understood just how much he loved this woman.

She could be dead.

March was her 18 month mark. The time the doctor's had given her was up, and he wondered if she had died yet, or if she was still hanging on.

If she was still alive, he wondered if she was suffering.

He didn't want her to suffer. No, never.

Phil's cellphone rings again, it must have been about the tenth time, but he still didn't answer.

There was silence in the house for a moment, with the exception of the rain until suddenly the house phone rang.

No one ever called the house phone, everyone knew Phil wasn't home enough to ever us it.

He let it go to the machine.

"Phil, I know you're there. I know what today is. Today, right now, you need to go look at storage unit 515. I think today is the right day for you to go find out what's int here. Stop being a pussy about it and just go."

Then there was silence once more.

Phil ran a hand over his head, thinking about Matt's message.

As he stood, he glanced over at the corner of the room, where the spider was lazily crawling across it's web.

"I'll kill you when I get back," he grumbled before finding a hoodie and leaving the apartment.

_Downpour on my soul_

_splashing in the ocean, I'm losing control _

_dark sky all around_

_I can't feel my feet touching the ground _

_calm the storms that drench my eyes_

_dry the streams still flowing _

_cast down all the waves of sin_

_and guilt that overthrow me_

The key to the storage unit felt form his hand as he glanced around the room in awe.

The storage unit was practically filled to the ceiling with presents.

His eyes and throat tightened in a familiar way.

It took a few minutes to compose himself before stepped toward the first stack of wrapped gifts.

He picked up the first one.

"_Happy 35__th__ Birthday!" _The tag read, and he realized it was her gift to him for his most recent birthday.

He didn't even open it, instead he picked up another present.

_ "Happy 5__th__ Anniversary" _That one hadn't happened yet.

_"Merry Christmas 2016" _

_ "Happy 40__th__ Birthday" _

_ "Happy Valentine's Day (2014)" _

There was at least a hundred more. One for each anniversary, each birthday, each Christmas that she would miss.

He sat down heavily on a sturdy box, head in hands as he cried.

In the middle of the storage unit, atop a short stack of boxes was an envelope with his name scrolled on it.

He opened it with shaky hands, feeling a bit of de ja vu as he did.

_I wanted you to have everything, even if I wouldn't get to be there. I didn't want you to miss out on birthday presents or Christmas presents or anything. They're all here, from now til you turn 100. You can open them whenever you want, you don't have to wait. I just wanted you to have them. So, happy birthday, merry Christmas, happy anniversary, and all the other warm wishes I could give you. I love you. _

_ Bree. _

He tucked the note back into it's envelope and sat down with his birthday present from last year, as well as their 4th anniversary present, and Christmas 2013. He would start with these for now, he would open them slowly, one at a time, at the correct times.

These were things Bree had left for him, little pieces of herself. A picture, a watch, a photo album.

He wondered what the other boxes held. Wondered how long it had taken Bree to come up with so many presents to last the rest of his life without her.

He was overwhelmed by how close he felt to her in that moment. It felt like she was there with him.

"I love you Bree." He whispered to the air as he sat among the gifts she'd left for him.

_I watch the rain fall clean from the heavens_

_as the skies part open I search for a sign_

_but I don't mind if you don't mind_

_collecting dust in lines on the pavement_

_in this sweet surrender_

_running out of time_

_but I don't mind if you don't mind._

"You should come with me today," John said as he laid out some bills on their check to cover for their breakfast.

"Go with you where?" Phil asked.

"I have a Make-A-Wish meeting today. An eight year old boy, named Aaron." John produced a photograph from his pocket of a little boy, pale, with ash blonde hair and glasses. He was grinning, wearing a toy WWE Championship belt around his waist.

"I also heard he's a pretty big CM Punk fan." John shrugged.

"How can he be a Cena fan as well as a Punk fan, that just doesn't make sense," Phil said jokingly before turning serious, "you wouldn't mind if I tagged along?"

"Not at all, I think it would really make this kid's day."

"Like you weren't already going to do that for him," Phil said as they stood from their table and left.

/

"So, you must be Aaron," John said as he crouched down in front of the small boy, who looked much frailer in person than he did in his photo.

The boy's mother, Cynthia, was standing next to Phil, smiling fondly as John interacted with her son and the Make-A-Wish volunteers took photos.

Cynthia turned to Phil and something in his face reminded her of herself.

"You've been affected by cancer," she stated, not even a question, she could tell.

"Who hasn't?" He replied with a shrug.

"No, you've had it worse."

"My girlfriend," he said after a few moments of silence, "she has stage four breast cancer."

The woman nodded, knowing an apology would do nothing for the ache cancer left in a person.

"Aaron's been fighting for two years now. When the cancer came back after he was in remission for five months, chemotherapy stopped working. We found out last week that he's been accepted into a clinical trial so we're relocating for that."

"Um, excuse, Mr. Cena?"

"Yeah buddy," John said with a grin.

"Is that CM Punk?" The little boy pointed behind Cena and John just grinned.

"It sure is. I told him about how I was meeting you and he said he really wanted to come along and say hi. Why don't you go say hi?" John suggested, moving out of the way so the little boy could approach Punk.

John watched with a smile as the little boy quietly got Phil's attention. Suddenly, Phil's cool and cold exterior melted as he brought himself down to the little boy's height.

It was a transformation before John's eyes as he watched Phil interact with Aaron.

He joked around with the kid, smiled, laughed at Aaron's comments.

John had never seen this side of Phil before. Briefly, he remembered Bree mentioning that when Phil was with her nephew Ethan, he was a completely different person. He was secretly great with kids.

It was like John wasn't even there anymore as Phil sat with Aaron and the two talked.

When it was time for Aaron to go, the boy had tears in his eyes.

Phil crouched down, placing a hand on his shoulder, "this isn't goodbye buddy. I have an idea actually, how bout we keep in contact while you're going through your new treatment?"

The boy brightened instantly, "you mean, like pen pals?"

Phil's brows furrowed as he grinned, "sure, like pen pals." He sad, chuckling at the kid. "I'll give all the information to your mom and you can write me our first letter, okay?"

"Okay," Aaron agreed with a nod.

Phil stood to his full height as John moved in to say goodbye to Aaron and take a final picture as Phil stepped over to Cynthia.

"Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Um, yes," Cynthia responded before digging through her purse, finding an old receipt and a pen and handing them to Phil.

He scribbled something down on the receipt before handing it back to her. "This is my address, have Aaron write me. Keep me informed on his condition?"

"Of course, thank you for this," she said, with a grateful smile.

"No, thank you."

**/**

"Who's Aaron?" Chalene asked as she picked up a paper that had been sitting on her brother's desk.

As Phil stepped out of the walk-in closet, pulling a t-shirt over his head, his eyes found his sister where she was holding a letter he had been in the process of writing.

"A kid I met at a Make-A-Wish thing."

"And you're writing letters to him? That's a little old fashion, don't ya think?" She arched a brow.

"It was the kid's idea," Phil shrugged, "I don't mind," he nodded toward the letter, "I was writing him back because he just started his clinical trial and things are going well so far."

"Clinical trial?" Chalene asked, looking back at the letter.

"Yeah, he has leukemia."

"Like Bree?"

"No, Bree had stage four breast cancer, not leukemia."

"Right." Chalene muttered.

"You mind if I finish up the letter before we go, so I can put it in the mail on the way out."

"Not at all, I'll leave you to it," she said before meandering down the hall and out into the living room, realizing why Phil had taken such an interest in the Make-A-Wish foundation.

* * *

**{Reflection.}**

_**-Summer- **_

_I got up and dialed your number, and your voice came on the line_

_with that old familiar message I heard a thousand times_

_It just said, sorry that I missed you, leave a message and God bless_

_I know that you think I'm crazy, but I just had to hear your voice, I guess_

_I'm gonna miss that smile, I'm gonna miss you my friend_

_Even though it hurts the way it ended up, I'd do it all again_

_so play it sweet in heaven 'cause that's right where you wanna be_

_I'm not crying 'cause I feel sorry for you, I'm cryin' for me_

_I'm still cryin', I'm cryin' for me, I'm still cryin'_

It had been a good, productive, busy week where Phil was surrounded by people at all times. Vince had followed through on the feud which would lead to a title match and a championship run.

He'd been so busy lately with the feud, his friends, Make-A-Wish showings, B.A. Star speeches, and life in general that he'd barely had any time to grieve anymore. The time of his grieving that consisted of anger, tears and heart-wrenching memories was officially over he felt. He didn't have time to be breaking down every five minutes because the most random thing recalled a memory of Bree to his mind.

Now when something reminded him of Bree he would allow the memory to enter in, register the stinging pain and carry on with whatever he had been doing when the thought struck.

This day was different.

He was alone, after seeing his friends off as they made their travels back to their homes and families.

An empty hotel room and an empty apartment were equivalent in Phil's mind, so he chose not to fly out to Chicago for the next 36 hours.

Alone without conversation or voices, it was a terrifying thought.

His first bad day in a while, he realized as he sat and watched 50 First Dates alone.

He had been right, it wasn't as funny without her, but he found himself chuckling sadly every now and again.

He felt like he was in an Adam Sandler rom-com gone wrong.

With a sigh he fell back onto the bed, feeling the ache in his chest open up, signaling that thoughts of Bree were on their way.

Sure enough, images of her flashes before his eyelids and he forced his eyes open so he wouldn't have to see them anymore.

Sighing again he stared blankly at the ceiling, missing her.

He rolled over, reaching onto the bedside table, searching blindly for his phone. Upon finding it, he dialed a number he knew by heart and after a hesitant moment, lifted the phone to his ear.

_"Hey, it's Bree. Sorry that I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." _

Her voice soothed his mind as the sound caressed his ears. He let out a breath before choking back a sudden sob that welled up in is throat.

He hadn't heard her voice in _so _long.

The tone sounded, signaling the recording of his message had begun.

"I just called to hear your voice, don't mind me." He whispered before hanging up and calling again.

_"Hey, it's Bree. Sorry that I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." _

The tears were flowing freely now as he heard the voice of the woman he loved, the voice he would never hear in person again.

She wasn't coming back.

He redialed the number again.

_"Hey, it's Bree. Sorry that I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." _

"I love you," he whispered but the three words were garbled by his sobs.

By the fifth message, he finally had himself under control.

"I, I called Dr. Salazar and she said you froze some of your eggs before you started chemotherapy. I guess women do that so that they can have kids even if the chemo kills off all the reproductive cells inside them. I'm glad you did that Bree." He paused, "I think I want to be a dad, now. And I want to be a father to our child. I thought that had been taken away from me too, but now I know there's a possibility I could still have that dream." His message was cut off suddenly, he had exceeded the recording time limit.

He laid back, setting his phone down on the bed.

Silently, he wondered if he would be a good dad.

He remembered a moment where Bree had whispered and told him he'd be an amazing father.

Holding onto that memory, he decided to carry on and maybe, just maybe, steal back a piece of his future that he'd thought he'd lost forever.

_When I looked out today_

_and saw that the sky was gray_

_I thought about the way_

_you loved days like this_

_and driving in to town_

_it really started coming down_

_bringing me back around_

_to all that I miss_

_It feel like it's rainin' you_

_It feels like it's rainin' you_

Phil sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. The emptiness beside him barely registered anymore, he was accustomed to sleeping alone and waking up alone.

Still, her side of the bed remained untouched. Even in his sleep, he never seemed to stray over to Bree's side of the bed.

Lifting his eyes, he glanced out the window, noticing the darkened tint to his room even though the clock on his nightstand said the sun should definitely be up by then.

Clouds marred the sun and the blue sky and he knew it was a day for rain.

He smiled to himself, Bree loved rainy days.

He busied himself for a few hours, the gym, a shower, cleaning up the apartment, laundry, packing. Monotonous tasks that held him together most days as he remembered doing these simple things with Bree.

After months of doing these things alone, without her, the memories held less of a sting. He could do simple things for himself again without curling into a ball afterward and having his heart ache and throb painfully in his chest.

The ringing of his cell brought him out of the kitchen where he was unloading the dishwasher. He expected it to be Matt or Colt, but when he answered, it was Chalene on the line.

"Hey dumbass, wanna go to lunch?" She asked.

He chuckled at the rude endearment, "sure, the usual place?" He asked.

"Sure, see you in twenty?"

"Sounds good." They hung up and Phil picked up his wallet, sliding it into his pocket along with his phone. He grabbed his hoodie off the table in the entrance hall and pulled it up his arms and grabbed his keys off the table as well before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him.

He was surprised as he made his way to his car, that it wasn't quite raining yet. There were spontaneous miniscule little drops every once in a while, falling in cluster, but it wasn't true rain yet.

Hoping into his car, he turned on the radio and threw his phone into the cup-holder.

Revving the engine he pulled out of his stall and began to drive, a uniform, routine task he did all of the time with only little variations. Another thing that held him together.

Suddenly, the rain began to fall in huge drops that smacked against his windshield. He nudged the lever for his windshield wipers and they started up with a force, flicking the rain away, clearing his line of sight as he drove.

He wasn't sure why, but he was smiling to himself as the ran fell and he drove.

Bree would always smile when it rained like this.

/

He threw his car into park and leaned back in his seat, undoing his seat belt.

As his hand reached for the door, his cell phone began to ring, reminding it of where he had thrown it earlier.

He picked up the device, not recognizing the number. Usually, he would ignore a call from an unfamiliar number, but today was a good day and he didn't really car who it was. He answered anyways.

"Hello?"

"Hi, um, CM Punk?"

"Uh, yeah, that's me?"

"Oh good, this is Cynthia Meyer. You met my son through Make-A-Wish a couple months ago before he started his treatment for leukemia."

Phil smiled widely, remembering the boy, "yeah, Aaron, I remember him."

"Well, he wanted me to let you know that he's gone into remission."

Phil couldn't help the warmth that spread to his chest knowing that the little boy was going to be okay for at least a little while longer, "that's great news."

He heard the woman get choked up a little, "it is and I really think it's thanks to your visit. It gave him something to smile about and he never stopped talking about it, he told everyone he met about that day he spent with you. What you did meant so much to my son, and it meant so much to me. I just wanted to thank you again for that."

"No need for thank yous. It was my pleasure. Aaron is a great kid."

"He is."

"I'm glad he's going to be okay."

"Me too."

_I didn't even run inside_

_or worry about staying dry_

_besides there's nowhere I can hide_

_from these feelings now_

_running down my face_

_takes me to another place_

_I can't think of a better way to drown_

After his phone call with Cynthia Meyer, Phil stepped out of his car, a smile on his lips that couldn't be taken away, even by the gloominess of the dark clouds above.

He glanced around for Chalene, but didn't see her anywhere. She hadn't arrived yet.

A year or two ago, if it had been raining like this, he would have immediately sought shelter or run inside. But it felt like Bree was with him, like she was thanking him for meeting that little boy, like she was rewarding him for doing something so thoughtless.

The rain on his skin felt amazing, as close to Bree's touch as he could get.

He closed his eyes as he stood next to his car in the rain and the ache for Bree was there, just like it always was, but it wasn't painful. It wasn't a wound any more, it was just an ache to remind him that something had been there once.

_Phil growled under his breath before slamming his foot into the side of his rental car. "Fuck." _

_ "Uh, hey. Phil?" The voice was questioning and uncertain._

_ He really didn't want to be bothered right now, especially not by the new girl. The newly acquired model who probably couldn't wrestle her way out of a box._

_ "What?" He snapped as he turned to face her. The rain was heavy, plastering his long hair to his face and neck._

_ She raised her eyebrows, pushing her now soaking wet long brown hair out of her face. "You locked out?"_

_ "No, I just fucking love standing out in the middle of a downpour." He quipped sarcastically._

_ She didn't seem phased, "well, I do," she shrugged, being totally honest. She loved the rain personally, but she understood that not everyone felt that way. _

He grinned, he understood it now, why she enjoyed the feel of fresh rain on your skin, the contrasting of temperatures, the slight mist it raised. It was a feeling that elicited calm, renewal and healing.

They'd shared a lot of moments in the rain, he realized. Moments that he loved and cherished, moments that he hadn't thought of in a really long time because of the pain they had become synonymous with.

Suddenly, they came rushing to him.

_"It's raining," she whispered._

_ Phil closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He would never understand her fascination with rain._

_ He sat up and started collecting there things. Her hand shot out quickly, "what are you doing?"_

_ "Getting ready to leave."_

_ "No." Her small was childlike in its happiness. _

_ Phil glanced around, the families and other couples at the beach were starting to pack up and leave. _

_ He looked back at Bree and she raised her eyebrows._

_ "What's a little rain gonna hurt?" She asked, throwing her book aside before getting to her feet and walking off, her feet leaving impressions in the Florida sand as the rain began to fall harder._

_ He watched her for a moment as she held her arms out and spun around slowly. A sudden wind sprung up and her hands went to her head to hold her hat on but her smile stayed on. _

_ "Bree," he said, sounded exasperated._

_ She just turned to face him and held out her hand, "dance with me?"_

_ It was moments like that where you could see Bree clearly. Her brown eyes were lit up as she smiled brightly at him, her small hand outstretched her bare toes wiggling in the same. He could see her, and he loved what he could see. _

_ He shrugged, "why not?" _

_ He took her hand, pulling it around his neck while his arms wrapped around her waist and he held her close to him. They stepped slowly, swaying in a circle. No music but the sound of the waves and the pouring rain. _

_ "I don't know how, but you make everything worthwhile," Bree whispered against his neck. _

_ Phil smiled to himself, having no words to respond to that. He didn't have an answer either._

The memory of the thunderstorm in Florida was one undermined by pain and insecurity and a night in the backseat of his truck that had been a rekindling of the admiration and love he'd always felt for her. It had been a moment where everything was reaffirmed for Bree when suddenly everything they knew was changing.

_She was sitting on the edge of the bridge, between two of the vertical beams, below the railing, her legs dangling off the side. _

_ "Bree." _

_ He wasn't sure she heard his voice through the rain, and the running creek and her own thoughts but he walked toward her, stopping just beside her. She leaned back, placing her weight on her straight arms and she tilted her head back so she could stare at the sky, she blinked slowly._

_ "I hope it's raining on the day I die."_

_ He dropped to his knees beside her._

_ Then he decided that this moment would be her moment to break down. The last one had been _

"_I love you Phil, please don't ever forget that." A sob seized her, "and don't think that I want to leave you. I don't. I'm sorry that I'm going to leave you."_  
_He kissed her temple, a stubborn tear leaking from the corner of his eye, mixing in with the __rain. "It's not your fault Bree, so don't apologize. You have no more control over this than I do."_

He couldn't blame her, not really blame her. She didn't ask to be diagnosed with cancer, she didn't ask to die from it. This wasn't something she wanted.

In the end, leaving had been something she both wanted and didn't want.

He'd never ask her to apologize for leaving, it had done him good and bad as well. He was just beginning to realize these things. Her leaving had given him strength and ideas and a new way to look at his future.

_Bree just nodded with a grin before stopping and looking up at the sky, "it's going to rain." _

_ Phil looked up as well, it had been cloudy since the afternoon, so he wouldn't be surprised if it did start raining. His eyes returned to Bree, knowing he should ingrain this memory of her in his brain forever, he couldn't forget her when she was happy, strong, optimistic, alive. He couldn't forget her when she was like this, looking up at the sky uninhibited as the rain began to drizzle over her in the starlight. This is the memory of Bree that he would keep forever, even after she was gone, even when their future was whisked away by the harsh winds of cancer._

_ He'd remember her laughing as it began to rain, because she loved the rain, and he loved all of her, he loved what she loved. So he could love the rain, just for her._

_ These moments would be short and fleeting in the next year, he knew, he was aware. So he needed to take advantage of the, grab them tightly in his hands and not let go, even when they threatened to tear themselves away._

How right had he been in that moment? Too right, he guessed.

That memory was still fresh in his mind, their first date in months. It hadn't ended well, but it had been beautiful for a time and he got that memory, that picture of her from it.

All his favorite memories of her, he realized, took place in the rain. Hell, he realized he was in love with her in the rain.

Rain had been their thing, he guessed.

The tears began to fall as he realized something.

He was thinking of her, actually recalling memories and moments, and he was okay. He was smiling. It didn't hurt. There was no debilitating pain in his chest. The urge to curl up into a ball and give up wasn't there.

It was selfish of him to not be able to let things go until now. But he felt he could be okay with her leaving him now because it didn't hurt to think of her anymore. He could keep her memory with him at all times and not feel it a burden to recall her smile or her laugh in the rain.

Happy tears, he hadn't had those in a while.

_It feels like it's rainin' you_

_I can't explain it_

_but I am baptized anew_

_it feels like it's rainin' you_

_If I had my way_

_It would do this every day_

_I would never see the sun_

_because the closest I get_

_to holding you again_

_is every time that sky opens up_

_It feels like it's rainin' you_

Chalene stepped out of her car, blinking hard against the rain. With a sigh she reached into her car, fumbling around for the umbrella she knew she'd thrown in there earlier that day. Finally grasping it in her hand she pulled back out of her car, opening the umbrella and stepping out into the street.

She shut her car door and looked around for Phil. She peered into the window of the restaurant, looking for signs of him, coming up empty.

She turned herself around slowly and paused when she spotted a figure standing out in the middle of the rain, no jacket, no umbrella. Just standing.

Not knowing how or why, she realized and recognized the man standing in the pouring rain as Phil.

Quickly she began to approach him, holding the umbrella at an angle to block the rain.

"Phil, you're crazy! What are you doing out here?" She asked, her voice getting carried slightly in the wind, "you need to get inside, it's pouring." She said, coming to a stop beside him, touching his arm with her hand that wasn't holding her umbrella.

He blinked and turned to look at her as if he had just woken up.

/

"There's something on your mind," Phil said, taking a sip of his Pepsi as he sat across from his sister.

"No, it's nothing really," she shrugged.

"What is it?" He asked, looking at her honestly, waiting for an answer.

"I just...Chez, Cassie and I noticed that lately you've been...interested in kids...I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great that you're getting along with kids and all and doing the Make-A-Wish stuff, and I don't think you're a pedophile or anything but...what's up with it?" She asked, "it's not like you. And I don't mean that in a bad way either," she added quickly, playing with the stray in her drink for a moment as silence greeted her.

She huffed in a breath, deciding to man up and make eye contact.

When she did, Phil was smiling.

"W-Why are you smiling like that?" She asked eyebrows furrowing.

He shook his head, "I found out Bree froze some of her eggs," and that was all he said.

Chalene turned her head slightly, jutting it out a little, "her eggs? Like, eggs from her ovaries?"

He chuckled, "yeah, those."

"And what does that even mean?" She asked, leaning back in her seat, searching his face. She lifted her drink, going to take a sip.

"I think I'm ready to be a dad."

She choked on the liquid as he spoke. "What?" She spluttered.

Phil ran a hand over his head, "I know it's a crazy thought, but it's the only way I'll ever have a kid with Bree. It's the only real, living part of Bree that I have left."

"Phil, you're talking about being a single parent. A single father. You're a wrestler, you live on the road twenty-four seven. You've already taken off too much time in the past year because of Bree, how could you raise a child?"

There was a look on his face that told her he'd already thought about those things, that he'd already considered them, and weighed the options in his head.

"It's just an idea," Phil mumbled, realizing his sister didn't find the idea as amazing as he did and that was okay. It wouldn't be her having the child anyways. It was his decision to make.

He just needed to make it.

* * *

**{Acceptance.}**

_Oh we never know where life will take us_

_I know it's just a ride on the wheel_

_and we never know when death will shake us_

_and we wonder how it will feel_

_So goodbye my friend  
I know I'll never see you again_

_But the time together through all the year_

_will take away these tears_

_it's okay now_

_goodbye my friend_

Two years ago, this isn't where he expected his life to be. A month and a half away from being 36, unmarried, childless, single. Not even a current champion.

Life had not taken him where he'd thought it would go and he guessed that was what he deserved for just assuming everything would go his way.

Bree was still off on her final adventure he assumed, even though her eighteen months had been up that past March.

Matt had mentioned some kind of protocol when she died, in some small conversations they had, Matt revealed there would be some kind of letter informing them of where her body was, where she'd spent her last breaths and how she would be transported back to Missouri for burial.

Apparently, they had it all planned out. Without any input from Phil.

He was past anger, however, he no longer was upset with Bree for leaving, for making these decisions without asking for his opinions. He was no longer angry at the world for making Bree sick.

She was still alive somewhere, he guessed. That gave him a little hope, and put the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

Smiling had become easier in the recent weeks as the one year anniversary of her leaving approached. He thought maybe he should be in more pain and turmoil but he couldn't bring himself to be that upset.

Things were starting to look up. He wasn't WWE Champion at the moment, but he would be winning the title in a week. The one year anniversary of Bree leaving would be the day he'd win back the title since his year plus long run back in 2012.

The voicemail on Bree's phone was full, but the line wasn't disconnected, so that was a good thing as well, he decided.

Matt was getting a push again. Ethan was starting first grade, Lee and his wife were renewing their vows, Simon had reached some new milestone in his business. Eve had just gotten married to her fiance after they'd put off their wedding for months, Barbie was engaged now. Beth and Adam had moved in together and things were progressing for them. John was still the face of the WWE, Mike had a championship run that was good and long. Stephen and Bryan were enjoying successful WWE careers. Nattie and TJ had just sent out their save-the-date for their wedding.

There were small things they could complain about, sure, but for the most part, things were good.

The absence of Bree was still noticeable on some days, but Phil tried his hardest to just shoulder through those gloomy hours.

The smallest things on the most random of days would remind him of her. He'd take it with a grain of salt and trudge on through to the next day, where his mind would be clear and his heart would go back to the vague ache that had taken over for the intense pain he'd felt immediately after Bree left all those months ago.

Sure, it still hurt to think about her, it felt practically like she had died. She hadn't, not yet, but the pain was there still, underlying everything. It was the reason why he hadn't even attempted to date again since she left. He couldn't bring himself to be even attracted to other women. He'd find something in any girl that either reminded him of Bree, or that he found better in Bree and that was the only barricade he needed to stop him from asking any woman out.

He gave up on his love life, and he wasn't too upset with it. The Make-A-Wish visits were keeping him busy, being a babyface on screen was keeping him busy too but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed being nice to the fans for once. He felt like he had more time for that because they distracted him from missing Bree.

Kids had a way of making you smile even when you're at your lowest.

Phil smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly as he thought of that first little boy he'd met when he started this sudden mass wish-granting mission he'd taken up. Aaron, that kid had been great. And now he was in remission again.

He pulled open his mailbox down in the lobby of the apartment complex and pulled out the small stack of envelopes, flipping through them as he made his way back up to his apartment.

His eyebrows furrowed as he came to an unmarked envelope at the bottom of the stack. He unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped inside. He set the bills and other various envelopes in a separate stack, keeping the mostly blank one in his hand.

No return address. Just his name and address printed neatly in a familiar cursive.

There was a sudden loud banging at his door and Phil grinned to himself, dropping the envelope onto the counter, hearing Colt yell through the door about not wanting to be late for their flight.

He rolled his eyes as he picked up his bag, keys, wallet and phone and then headed out the door.

Yes, things were going back to normal even though he was missing one key ingredient in his life.

He was pretty sure he could manage now.

_Life's so fragile and love's so pure_

_We can't hold on but we try_

_we watch how quickly it disappears_

_and we never know why_

_but I'm okay now_

_goodbye my friend_

_you can go now_

_goodbye my friend_

Checking to make sure he had everything in his bag one more time, Phil concluded he was ready to head for the airport. He had a couple days off and had decided he'd head home for one day, before flying out to Missouri the second day.

The flight was long and uneventful, he spent the time in the air occupying his mind so it didn't stray. His thoughts flitted to Bree a time or two, but he found it okay, it wasn't heart-breaking to think about her anymore.

Upon landing, Chalene and Chez were waiting to pick him up. They took him out to lunch before dropping him back off at his apartment.

He spent the day cleaning up around the place, running errands, then he hung out with Colt for a couple hours before he had to catch his red-eye to Missouri.

As he prepared to leave for the airport again he glanced around the living room, his eyes settling on the corner of the room.

The spider still hung there in it's web.

Phil shook his head slightly, "I'm not going to kill you."

Simon nodded to him as he met him in baggage claim, "hey man," he said, shaking Phil's hand.

"Hey, how are you?" Phil asked, it had been awhile since he'd spoken to Simon.

"Good, good, the baby has been keeping us up but things are all good."

Simon and his wife had just welcomed their second child into the world a few months back. Phil had received the card with the little girl's picture. She was precious, with the brown eyes characteristic of the Thompson family.

"How about you?" Simon reversed the question on Phil.

"Better than I have been in a while. Keeping myself busy." Phil shrugged as he spotted his bag and waited for it to round the carousel toward him. He hauled the bag over and then nodded to Simon, signaling he was good to go.

They drove to Breann's childhood home.

"How's Ben?" Phil asked, glancing over at Simon.

"Dad's...taking the divorce hard. Like I expected. Mom let him have the house, she's already moved out. Dad gave Sammy to Ethan, he loves that cat. I think because he was Bree's."

Phil just nodded. The news of Ben and Angela's divorce had struck him hard. He knew they'd had problems, but even months after Bree had left, nothing had changed. Things had gotten worse, form what Lee had told him. Finally, they'd filed for divorce.

Phil was glad Bree wasn't around to see her parents split up. It would crush her and she would blame herself.

As they stepped inside what was now just Ben's house, Ethan came running, throwing himself at Phil who knelt down and caught the boy.

"Hey, little man," Phil greeted with a beaming smile and a chuckle, "happy birthday."

"Thanks Uncle Punk."

Lee rounded the corner into the entrance hall and smiled before hugging Phil in greeting.

"Dad's in the kitchen," Lee said and Phil nodded before heading that way, Ethan trailing behind his uncle.

"Hey Ben," Phil boomed as he entered the kitchen.

The older man turned with a chuckle, "Phil, loud as usual."

"Naturally," the two shook hands before Ethan stole Phil away to go play in the jump house with him and his friends.

He was the coolest kid in all of Cairo, Missouri. Having _the _CM Punk at his birthday party.

After the party was done, the cake had been cut, the candles blown out and the children sent home, the Thompson house was quiet.

Lee, Simon, Ben, Phil, Carina and Lizzie all sat together in the living room, catching up and just talking. It was nice to feel a part of Bree's family. It made Phil feel closer to her even though she wasn't there.

Ethan was asleep, with his head resting on Phil's lap.

Lee reached over to his son, "hey kiddo, it's time you went to bed."

The boy opened his eyes, "I want Uncle Punk to tuck me in."

Lee glanced up at Phil, who just nodded and smiled.

"Alright, let's get you into bed little man," Phil said as he stood and scooped his nephew up into his arms.

As he tucked the blankets around the small boy in the guest bedroom where he stayed at his grandpa's house Ethan yawned before asking, "is Aunty Bree coming back soon?"

Phil paused for a moment, not sure what to say.

Lee stood in the doorway with Carina, Ben slightly behind him, all holding their breath.

"I don't know little man. Maybe. But, can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah?"

"She loves you."

"That's not a secret," Ethan said with a laugh.

Phil grinned at the boy, ruffling his hair before kissing his forehead and standing up. "Goodnight Ethan."

"Nigh' Uncle Punk," the little boy whispered as his eyes fell shut and the ease of childhood sleep took him.

Phil turned to see the trio standing in the doorway and he smiled at them slightly.

As he headed for the door Lee stopped him, "you sure you don't want to stay the night?" He asked.

"No, I have to be back on the road by morning. I've got a plane to catch." Phil replied.

"You're welcome here any time, you know that, right?" Ben said, his eyes locking with Phil's.

"I do, and I'm very grateful for that." Phil replied softly.

"We'll see you soon then," Lee said with a nod as he held the door open and Phil stepped outside.

"Yeah, for sure. Tell Ethan I said bye."

"Will do. That kid idolizes you."

Phil smiled to himself as he turned, seeing the cab waiting for him at the curb. Getting inside he told the driver to take him to the airport before he settled back in the seat.

He wanted a kid like Ethan, with Breann's brown eyes.

He wanted their child.

* * *

**{Hope.}**

_Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high_

_and the dreams that you dreamed of,_

_once in a lullaby_

_oh somewhere over the rainbow,_

_blue birds fly, and the dreams that you dreamed of_

_dreams really do come true_

"Hey, live show in your hometown!" Matt said, clapping Phil on the shoulder as he joined his friend at their catering table.

John and Mike looked up from their conversation and greeted Matt. Grinning, Matt took a seat between Mike and Phil and then realized that Phil hadn't spoken yet.

"Man, aren't you excited? You're winning your title back in your hometown, your family's gonna be here, it's going to be great." Matt said.

"It's been a year," Phil said, his eyes look up at Matt.

The younger man paused as Matt, Mike and John all quieted, their eyes turning to Phil.

Matt pressed his lips together, nodding, "I knew the anniversary was close."

Phil surprised them by smiling slightly, "I'd like to think she'll be watching tonight."

"Wherever she is, I know she's rooting for you," Matt said, looking his friend in the eye. Phil nodded silently before his phone buzzed.

_Test Message From: Chalene_

His eyebrows furrowed.

_Meet me out back. Sumthin important 2 tell u. _

"Hey, my sister needs me for something, I'll be back in a few."

The group muttered responses as Phil stood from his seat and took off.

The Chicago native walked through the arena to the back door. A crease formed between his brows as he stepped out into the heavy rain and spotted his sister.

No umbrella, out in the open, the rain pouring down on her.

She turned and spotted him. She took one step toward him, "I want to do it Phil."

He shook his head, couldn't help the ridiculous chuckle that left his lips, "do what?" He hadn't asked her to do anything, she hadn't mentioned doing anything, he was honestly confused.

"I'll be the surrogate mother for your baby." She bit her lip, "yours and Bree's." She swallowed, "you'll be a great dad, I know that. So if you're going to have this kid, I want to be the surrogate."

He'd never asked her, never really thought about who would carry the baby, but the idea of his sister being the surrogate just made sense.

He just hadn't expected Chalene to offer.

He stared at her, blinking, mouth open as the rain pelted down on him.

He had no answer for her at the moment.

_someday I'll wish upon a star,_

_wake up where the clouds are far behind me_

_where troubles melt like lemon drops_

_high above the chimney top_

_that's where you'll find me_

As he sat alone at his kitchen table in his apartment in Chicago, Phil remembered one time when Bree explained to him why she loved the rain so much.

It wasn't the feeling of rain drops that pelted down on you, it wasn't the refreshing, distinctive scent that permeated the air before a storm, it wasn't the life and green it promised afterward.

No, it was the rainbow. The beacon of hope that rose after the rainclouds. The play of lights and water that represented several different things to several different people. A promise, a dream, a hope.

She loved the rainbow that rain brought in it's wake. That's why she loved the rain so much.

He sighed heavily, eyes flickering to the letter, with no return address. No clue as to who it was from. He had a good idea though from the familiar cursive that formed his name. His hazel eyes moved back to his phone, as he opened his sister's contact, his thumb hovering over the screen, hesitating over the green call button.

He took a deep breath and suddenly the noise outside of the apartment faltered, the pattering stopped on the windows. He glanced up as the clouds parted and a small beam of sunlight filtered into the kitchen and slanted across the table, landing over the envelope, creating a glare on the screen of his cell phone.

In the sky, a rainbow curled across vast amounts of revealed blue, each of its colors clearly defined and visible, making his breath catch in his throat.

It's always worse before it gets betters.

After every storm is a rainbow.

His thumb hovered as he reread his name on the letter.

And then the doorbell rang.

_oh somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly,_

_and the dreams that you dare to_

_oh why, oh why can't I?_

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

_Bree, _

_ 28 letters from all the people you love. _

_ I saved the best for last, huh? _

_ I cannot describe how amazing the last three years have been and how happy they've made me. _

_ Sure, looking on things now, actually seeing the end, makes me think there are some things I would've done differently in our relationship. But they were all mistakes on my part._

_ You, Breann, are the one and only woman I will ever truly love in my whole life. I know, you'll probably argue that, tell me I'll find someone else after you're gone, but I know me, I'm inside my head and I know, without a doubt, that there will never be another woman like you. _

_ I'm okay with not finding someone else, because I've had all I'll ever need and all I'll ever be given from you. Having you in my life, having you to love, has given me all I could ever hope for. _

_ You're beautiful, Bree. You've inspired me and I can't describe how amazing you are in words. _

_ I fell in love with you for so many reasons, reasons that you already know, you don't need me to list them out here for you because, honestly, I tell you all the time why I love you. _

_ I want you to know that I don't know what I'll do once your gone. I'll probably cry a lot, probably curse your name too. But I'll never stop loving you. _

_ Know that, keep that with you until the end, take it with you afterward, wherever you go, just remember that. _

_ I plan on loving you my whole life, whether you're here with me or not. I promised myself that long ago and I'm promising you that now. _

_ I'm hoping, somehow, my dreams will come true and you won't have to leave me for another few decades._

_ I don't think that's how things will work out for us. Relationships, loves, like ours, just don't pan out in the long run, I don't think. We're more of a spontaneous, combustible thing. Something so perfect that it just can't survive long in a world like ours. _

_ But I'll keep my promise until my last breath._

_ Then I'll be able to hear yours again. _

_ Love always, in sun and rain,_

_ Phil _

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

_Oh, somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high_

_and the dreams that you dare to,_

_oh why, o why can't I? _

_The End._

* * *

_**And that it is my friends, that is the end. **_

_**Please don't hate me for the way I chose to end the fic, but I feel it is the correct ending for this story. The ending carries the message I've been trying to send throughout the whole fic, and hopefully it gets across. I've known since I started this fic, that I wanted to end it like this. **_

_**Thank you so much for reading this fic and sticking with me through it all. This is one of my best works to date on this site and I'm extremely proud of it. I couldn't have gotten to the end of it without you guys though. Your reviews have made it so much more worthwhile. So thank you. **_

_**Now, I leave you to decide what happens for Phil and Bree. You can fill in the last few pieces and have it end whichever way you mentally choose. **_

_** (but if you want to write a oneshot about what you think happened or what you wanted to happen, feel free to ;]) **_


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